


Sing the rage of Achilles

by TorturedTadtoples



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Achilles and Patroclus meet as children, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Helen and Patroclus are siblings, M/M, mentions of past non-con (supporting character), troy au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-05-13 22:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 28,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14757746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TorturedTadtoples/pseuds/TorturedTadtoples
Summary: AU where Patroclus is Helen's much adored younger brother and goes with her to Troy.Achilles follows Patroclus, ready to tear down the walls of Troy to get to his love.Based on an awesome headcanon I found on tumblr.





	1. Part One: Sparta- Skipping Stones

**Author's Note:**

> Idea based on this headcannon: http://aristosachaionofficial.tumblr.com/post/121326725167/i-have-been-inspired-and-have-two-first-helen  
> This fic isn't similar to the headcannon in the details but the basic idea is the same :)  
> In this version Helen is six years older than Patroclus but they are both children of Zeus.  
> Hope you guys enjoy!

“Helen! Helen! Helen!”

He heard her sandals stop clicking along the marble hallway as she turned to face him. He couldn’t see her face behind the veil but he knew she was smiling. She was always smiling when she looked at him.

“Hello, Patroclus. What brings you here today? You know you aren’t allowed to come to dinner.”

Patroclus pouted and Helen laughed indulgently. Helen was the only one Patroclus would pout for, he knew that his older sister was the only one who would not scold him and tell him to act more befitting of a prince.

“Why do you have to go to another boring dinner? Didn’t you say you’d come skip rocks with me today?”

Helen grinned conspiratorially and ducked down to his level, ignoring the annoyed noise her lady in waiting uttered. Though Patroclus was eight years old and only six years younger than her, he was unusually short for his age and had always hated being talked down to.

“That is true I did promise, and it would be dishonourable to go back on that promise” Her eyes sparkled. Patroclus loved it when she was like this, filled with mischief and a look in her eye that was meant for only the two of them.

Helen turned to her lady in waiting, “Lampetie, tell father I am ill and simply cannot meet the delegation from Phthia tonight”

Lampetie’s pale face turn red with anger, he saw her chest puff up in that way that meant she was about to start yelling. Before a word could come out, Helen grabbed his hand and raced away- pulling him behind her as she weaved down the hallway.

“Bye Lampetie!” Patroclus called out, turning back to wave as he stumbled after his sister.

They reached the nearest shore of the Eurotas river, out of breath from running and from laughing so hard. Helen had a quick look around, though she knew that this section of the river was inaccessible to most Spartans, and once she was satisfied they were alone she threw off the veil, carelessly letting it fall to the ground.

Patroclus grinned and jumped onto her back. She did not stagger under his weight- she was a child of Zeus and inherited a measure of the strength characteristic to his bloodline. Instead she pulled his legs more securely around her waist and raced up and down the shore, his screams of delight propelling her forward, igniting her own joy.

Eventually they tired and found themselves laying back down on the river shore, side by side with their legs in the surf. Patroclus turned his face to his sister, wide eyes focused on her.

“ I missed you so much Helen. No one else is as nice to me as you and no one else is any fun. Why are you always so busy?” He asked in his soft child’s voice, uncomprehending of how the world worked- only knowing that his sister did not have time for him anymore and fearing that it was because he had done something wrong.

Helen signed and brushed her fingers through his hair.

“Oh Patroclus, you know I would love nothing more than to play with you like I always have. You know father has been getting many visitors lately?”

He nodded, those dinners with guests were one of the main reasons Helen could not spend time with him.

“They are here to arrange a marriage with me.”

Patroclus shot up.

“Marriage!” Marriage meant Helen would leave. She would go away with her husband, like Clytemnestra, their other sister had done, and he would never see her again.

“But Helen why? You don’t want to get married, I know you don’t- can’t you make father stop?”

She smiled again.

“I will have to get married eventually, sooner rather than later- you know how rumours of my beauty have spread.” She paused a moment, looking thoughtful “I don’t think I mind getting married. I would prefer to be older when it happens but I don’t dread it like I have seen other girls do, nor do I long for it like some others”

By this time Helen had risen and was sitting on the riverbank, her gaze turned outwards and surveying the wide plains of Sparta, the distant villages and mountains.

“I think what I dread is the thought of having to leave this place. The wild beauty of Sparta- this is my home and it is in my blood. I would not want to leave it” she turned then to Patroclus “ I would not want to leave you either my sweet little brother”

He wrinkled his nose at being called sweet and she laughed again.

“That’s easy then! Your husband can come live with us! And all three of us will live together and be happy and skip stones every day. Just tell father that is what you want, he never says no to you Helen”

Before Helen could form a reply, another voice interrupted them.

“I don’t think that’s how marriage works”

Quick as lighting their heads snapped towards the source of the voice- Helen scrambled for her veil, horrified at the thought of revealing her face to a stranger. Patroclus just stared in dumbfounded wonder.

There in front of him was the most beautiful, golden boy he had ever seen in his life.


	2. A Novelty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Helen is amused and Patroclus is decidedly not.  
> Not much happens in this chapter, its more focused on Patroclus' and Achilles first meeting, so the plot picks up more in the next chapter.  
> Hope you enjoy  
> 

Helen gathered her composer before Patroclus did, years of training in court etiquette allowed her to calm herself enough to observe the situation.

The first thing she noticed was her little brother, mouth open and looking like he had just seen a god. She knew that look, it was often a look directed at herself from various men. She was glad the veil she had hastily adjusted hid her amused grin. She could imagine her cute little brother’s annoyance if she let on that she found this funny.

She sobered quickly and directed all her attention onto the little prince in front of her. Son of a goddess and the king of Phthia, his name was Achilles. She had met him at an earlier feast with the Phthian delegation. A handsome, almost beautiful youth, the same age as her brother.

They did not talk much, her place as a woman was not to talk but to be displayed as a marriage prize. She did not mind for it gave her time to observe her surroundings. She had observed Achilles to be a rather disinterested youth, happy to be left to his own devices and dismissive of those around him. Not in a cruel or demeaning way, just…disinterested.

He did not look disinterested now. He looked curiously at the two of them, like they were animals who had done an interesting trick.

“Prince Achilles, greetings. What brings you to the riverbank today? I do not presume to know your intentions but I hope you realise that my father has strictly forbidden my interaction with anyone who is not a citizen of Sparta. I hope you can understand why” She used her best diplomats voice, she knew she wasn’t saying the right thing but she didn't care. The boy didn’t seem the type to take offense.

Her little speech seemed to be enough to snap Patroclus out of his daze and he quickly rushed to his feet to stand in front of her.

“You’re not allowed to see my sister. Go away!” She was torn between laughter, love and horror at Patroclus’ lack of etiquette. She understood his protectiveness- after all she had been kidnapped once before by men who wanted to make her their bride. She knew the experience had traumatised Patroclus. But he also knew that she was very capable of taking care of herself- she was the one who had incapacitated the captors and returned home herself.

The handsome boy frowned. She wondered if he had ever received such a hostile reception, if anyone had ever not wanted him around. Certainty she had never experienced it, and would not know what to do in his situation either.

“Aren’t you the ones who are doing the wrong thing? Your maid told us you were too ill to attend dinner. I think, if anyone were to get into trouble for this encounter it would be you”

Unlikely. Helen rarely got in trouble for anything, but Patroclus would and the blame would go to him, which she would not allow. Helen waited, she could sense the boy wanted something. But it was Patroclus who broke the silence.

“We weren’t- She is sick! I-I wanted her to get fresh air to help her heal! Don’t tell!” Oh, her sweet, cute little brother. He was panicking and she could tell he thought the situation worse than it really was.

The other boy looked at him for a little too long, gaze lingering over her brother’s soft features and wide, worried eyes. It was like the two boys were acting out a play for her amusement. She was enjoying it immensely.

“I will not tell anyone. You came here because you were bored” A statement, not a question. “ I am also bored. I will join your games and then we will all be happy” It would have been an order if it was not said so innocently. He was so used to having his will accepted he did not even consider asking. Helen vaguely wondered if this was his way of trying to make friends.

Patroclus’ nose wrinkled up in that adorable way it did when he was annoyed. “You should ask first if you want to play with us! Maybe we don’t want you here!”

The other boy stared at him in confusion. Before the situation could deteriorate any further Helen decided to direct the conversation.

“Of course. We were just about to start skipping rocks. Do you know how to skip rocks Prince Achilles?”

She could tell that the boy had forgotten her presence by the way he jumped slightly at the sound of her voice. What a novelty, to be forgotten. Men and boys alike were entranced by her- even a flash of her wrist or a lock of her hair falling in front of her veil was enough to captivate them. This boy had seen her face in its entirety and was more focused on her little brother than her.

The boy shook his head.

“Well then, we shall have to teach you.”


	3. Spoils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lol, okay- so I lied about the plot picking up in this chapter. Next one- I promise!  
> For now, please enjoy the awkward cuteness that is 8 year old Achilles trying to get a boys attention.

Achilles was used to being the centre of attention. He was used to receiving looks wherever he went, he rarely ever noticed those looks anymore, they are simply a natural part of his life. That is why it was so confusing to him, so unsettling that he kept noticing those large, dark eyes whenever they looked his way.  
He shook off thoughts of the young prince- Patroclus was his name- and focused on his next throw. He had picked up the game quickly and had already beaten Patroclus’ record for skipping rocks. It was Helen he was having difficulty beating.  
She had skill and practice on her side- the same amount as Patroclus- but surprisingly she had greater strength. He was sure she was able to skip the rocks further than what was normal for a mortal.  
“Did you inherit strength from Zeus?”  
She turned her lovely face towards him, having discarded her veil a while ago, and gave him a wicked grin.  
“Who knows?”  
But Patroclus had pipped up next to her.  
“Yes! My sister is very strong. She is stronger and faster than anyone in all of Greece!”  
Achilles frowned. Why was Patroclus so impressed with her? Achilles was the one who had beaten him so quickly. He bet Helen hadn't picked up rock skipping as quickly as he did. Patroclus should be impressed by him, not her.  
“She is not faster than me. One day I will be the best warrior in Greece, it has been prophesied.” He held out the knowledge of the prophecy and waited for them to be amazed at his godly fate. Waited for Patroclus’ worshipful gaze to leave his sister and be directed at him.  
Helen looked unsurprised by this knowledge, no doubt she had heard of the prophecy before now. Patroclus wrinkled his nose in that way of his and said,  
“How do you know that you will be the greatest warrior?”  
He laughed. “I just do”  
“My sister once defeated two grown men by herself when she was only ten years old. I bet she could beat you.”  
“Patroclus!” Helen scolded him, perhaps thinking he had gone too far. Achilles was feeling off put now. He wanted to prove to Patroclus that he was the best, but the boy was making it difficult.  
“She cannot. She is a woman” A fact. Women did not fight wars.  
Patroclus’s frown turned into a scowl. Helen, strangely enough seemed to find his statement amusing, her hand came up above her mouth to conceal barely contained laughter.  
“Well then, Prince Achilles. We seem to be at an impasse. I think there is a way to resolve this issue once and for all.”  
“And how is that Princess Helen?”  
“A competition of course! Of strength, speed and skill. What are your thoughts Prince Achilles?”  
He thought about it, but not for long. A competition of skill sounded like the exact type of fun that he had been missing out on since his arrival in Sparta three days ago.  
“Alright. Let’s compete- but what are we competing for? If it is to be a competition we should have a prize.”  
Something shifted in Helen’s face then, her expression became sly. She gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment.  
“How long does your delegation stay Prince Achilles?”  
“One month. If proceedings go well- two months” They both knew that if proceedings went well then Helen would be promised to Achilles for when he came of age.  
“Then let us fight for what all men fight for.”  
Achilles furrowed his brow.  
“And what is that?”  
“Spoils”  
Achilles nodded. Of course, he had heard of spoils before, he had a vague impression of men claiming prizes for great deeds. Before he could suggest spoils, Helen continued.  
“Patroclus will be the prize”  
Until then Patroclus had been watching their exchange raptly, his eyes flickering between them in turn as they spoke. It took a while to register what Helen had said, the excitement of his face morphing into mortification then outrage.  
“Wh-“  
“Deal” He agreed without thought, the response automatic.  
Patroclus’ indignant face turned from Helen to Achilles, his face almost looked betrayed. Achilles shrugged at him.  
Patroclus turned back to his sister. “But Helen, I wanted to compete as well!”  
“We need you to keep time and to judge. And besides you won’t really be a slave to either of us. You are a prince in your own right- it’s all in good fun”  
“Why can’t you bet toys or items? Why does it have to be me?” he whined.  
Helen laughed then, long and hard, so much that her face went red. It was interesting, of all the beautiful things about her, when she laughed so deeply and truly she sounded like a wheezing ox- It somehow made him like her more. He had a feeling that she was laughing at something more than her brothers statement.  
Once she calmed down she spoke again.  
“What toys do I have that he would want? Perfumes? Dolls? What could he have that would interest me? A spear perhaps? Maybe a nice cape? Come now, Patroclus- you know I would never let anything bad happen to you.”  
“And I would never let anything bad happen to you either”  
Silence.  
The two siblings were looking at him. Helen, with that calculating look on her face and Patroclus- frozen and bright red.  
Achilles didn’t need a mirror to know that he wore the exact same frozen, red faced expression.


	4. Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Helen and Achilles compete for the prize.  
> I was gonna wait a week to post but couldn't stop myself- so here you go :)  
> Also, sorry about this chapter being longer than usual, I'll try to keep them under 1000 most of the time but this one kinda got away from me (its 1500 if you were wondering)

Patroclus was allowed to decide the three challenges, likely as compensation for being the prize. _Which is only fair,_ he thought in a huff. Despite his annoyance, most of his outrage had died after hearing Achilles vow to protect him- now he was mostly feeling embarrassment.

The first test was to be a competition in running, to test speed. Patroclus would stand at the other end of the beach and whoever reached him first to tap his hand would win the race. As soon as he reached the edge of the beach, marked by a jagged wall of rocks, he turned to the two figures in the distance. He was too far away for ordinary mortal to hear him yell, but- none of them were ordinary mortal.

“Go!” They took off.

Patroclus stared in amazement. He was always delighted to see his sister’s skill, always so impressed by her ability. But seeing two demigods blessed with physical skill was something else entirely.

He could see their faces as they came closer- both of them were grinning as they ran, delighting in having real competition for once in their lives.

But there was no contest, though Helen was fast, Achilles shot ahead with the sleek speed of a lion. He had nothing to tie up his hair so it was streaming loose behind him, his face glowing as he raced towards him. Patroclus was captivated.

Before he knew it, Achilles was upon him, his hand reached out for Patroclus’ own. He had a brief thought of pulling it back in an effort to help his sisters win- but no, he was the judge and had to be impartial. Besides, before he could go anywhere with that thought Achilles hand was in his. He had won.

Achilles tuned and grinned back at Helen, who was catching up fast.

“That was the best running competition I have ever had! You are better than any boy or man I have raced.”

Helen, having stopped by now, had her hands on her thighs in an effort to support herself, panting for breath. She still managed to look up with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

“Oh, I know that already”

Achilles laughed in response, mood high from the exercise and winning.

“But you Achilles. You are something else entirely” Achilles nodded, as though the words were his due and finally turned to Patroclus.

“That was amazing! No one has ever beaten my sister before!” he couldn’t stop himself from exclaiming.

He didn’t think it was possible for Achilles smile to grow wider, but it did.

****

Challenge two was a test of strength. Patroclus was excited by the competition by this point and quickly led them to a spot in the greenery beyond the beach. He led them to a fallen silver birch- its trunk was slim enough that it could be lifted but not so slim it would be easily carried.

He cleared his throat. “Participants!” He could see his sister trying not to smile at how seriously he was taking the competition, Patroclus fought to not roll his eyes at her amusement. “Your next challenge, if you choose to accept- is a test of strength!” he paused for effect. A nod from Achilles, an escaped laugh from Helen. Fine then.

“You must take turns throwing this birch tree. You will each have three turns and I will mark how far you throw the tree each time on the ground. The best throw wins!”

After that he quickly marked the throwing point where they would stand in the dirt and stood back, ready to record their throws.

Neither had trouble lifting the birch and they took turns one after the other- Patroclus quickly rushed to mark a point in the dirt with an initial for each of their throws before he lifted the birch himself and carried it back- the last part he mostly did to remind them that he was a demigod as well, and though not as gifted as them, could still do things ordinary mortals found difficult.

This, like the race had a clear victor from the start. Throw after throw Helen exceeded Achilles best. His best throw was equal to her worst throw- her best was at least two paces ahead of the others.

Patroclus beamed with pride at his sister. No one ever expected her to be good at anything, they just expected her to be beautiful. He had heard that in Sparta women had more freedom that anywhere else. But it was hard to believe when he looked at how people tried to restrain his sister.

“Our winner is Helen!” He declared after marking the final throw, though it was obvious and probably didn’t need to be said.

Helen grinned and bowed to Patroclus, then Achilles, then to an imaginary audience. She held out her arms in a grandiose gesture.

“Thank you! Thank you all! Come all, come heap libations and praise unto your victor! Come!”

Patroclus laughed in delight and ran up to her “Praise be, oh strongest of all men!” He loved it when they joked like this.

“You-You’re strong.” They both turned to Achilles. He was not smiling. His face looked to be at war with itself- torn between disappointment and disbelief. Patroclus wondered- had Achilles ever lost to anyone?

His face settled into a neutral expression and he nodded gravely at Helen. “You have beaten me. Congratulations” Helens face had also turned serious and she gave him a solemn nod back.

Something passed between them then, something Patroclus did not understand, but when he looked at Achilles he saw the respect in his eyes that was directed at Helen.

Patroclus smiled to himself. He was liking this prince more than he thought he would.

*****

“The last contest, the tie breaking event- shall be a test of skill!” He announced to them as though they did not already know. Patroclus had to be creative with this task, they did not have any weapons or equipment to use so he had made them wait as he gathered small rocks of equal size and weight.

“This test will measure your aim and accuracy. As you can see, I have drawn a target in the sand fifteen paces away from here. You must throw the rocks as close to the centre of the target as possible. You each get three throws and I will be marking the throws as before” They both nodded but did not make a sound of acknowledgement. Something had changed after the last challenge- it was still friendly but now they were both focused on winning.

The competition was more difficult than it seemed. Patroclus had made the centre target only a dot in the sand and fifteen paces made it difficult to gauge the target. They could not only use strength- for if the threw too hard the rock would skip off the sand- the same problem would be found using speed. They had to use technique and aim.

This competition was closer- each throw they took was nearer and nearer to the centre target. Helen had just completed her final throw. It was her best one, landing a fingers tip distance away from the centre target. Then came Achilles, his face set in determination. He took a moment to adjust his aim and focus on his surroundings and then he threw.

The rock travelled in a perfect arch across the sky- Patroclus followed its path with baited breath.

It landed. It landed exactly on top of that tiny dot Patroclus had drawn as the target.

A moment of silence. Then Patroclus cheered.

“Right on centre!” He heard his sister clapping, heard Achilles exclaim of delight. It was the perfect way to end the competition, a startling display of skill to break the tie. They could not have asked for a more exciting ending.

He ran to the two competitors and reached them as they finished exchanging compliments and congratulations. Achilles turned to him as soon as he arrived and grabbed his hand.

“Now I claim you as my spoils!” Achilles exclaimed. Patroclus blushed, he forgot about that part.

“ Okay” was all the response he managed.

Achilles excitement gave way to embarrassment after a long stretch of silence. Then he turned to Helen, looking uncertain.

“Um…Helen?”

“Yes?”

“What am I meant to do with spoils?”

Helen laughed and laughed and laughed. It never took much to set his sister off but he wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen his sister actually cry from laughter before. Of course she was enjoying this.

Once she calmed down- a long while later- she wiped the tears from her eyes and told them.

“It is simple- If you win a prize it belongs to you. As something- or someone- you won with your own skills you must guard it like it was your own honour. In this particular case, it means you are entitled to Patroclus’ time for the next month”

Achilles nodded seriously then turned to Patroclus, hand still in his own.

““As my prize you must play with me and be my companion. In return I will defend you like my own honour”

He stared back into Achilles’ earnest eyes, feeling overwhelmed and confused. He knew he had to say something, had to respond but he couldn’t get words to form. Finally, he managed something-

“Okay”

 


	5. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> So this chapter is pretty light on Patroclus/Achilles but I feel that this is as much Helen's story as it is theirs and I wanted to shed some background on how I feel this fic fits into the cannon of tsoa.  
> Never fear, Patrochilles will be back with a vengeance next chapter XD  
> Also remember last chapter when I said I would try to keep the word limit under 1000 words? haha. My bad.  
> Anyway, please enjoy these two awesome ladies scheming.

Helen watched Penelope swim in the private lake attached to the back of her father’s palace. Usually women would not be afforded a private swimming area- but Helen was not an ordinary woman. Her beauty had compelled her father to section off the small lake near the palace for her own personal use so that she would be safe from anyone who would attack her when she felt like swimming or bathing. She did not mind of course, it meant she got her own private pool.

She was also more than happy to share with her dear cousin and closest friend whenever they both had the time. Helen was pulled out of her thoughts when Penelope finally joined her at the sandy edge of the river to bathe in the gentle, late afternoon sunlight.

“Where is your brother Helen, by now he would be knocking at the gate, calling for you to pay him attention” Helen rolled her eyes, she knew that Penelope had no problem with Patroclus.

“He is too taken with his new friend to spare any time for me.” She said, affecting a pitiful expression.

Penelope only raised an eyebrow. Helen stopped trying to hold in her laughter.

“It’s true! Those two are always off playing games or talking- you know they insisted on sharing a room? Its too cute. I spied on them once to see if they were planning any mischief but all I saw was Achilles juggling and Patroclus throwing him a fig every few minutes. Those two are too easily entertained.”

Penelope laughed. “Yes. At their age, when we had sleepovers we would plan out how to terrorize the whole household”

“Exactly!” Helen exclaimed. “Which is why I’m so disappointed in those two. But to each their own I suppose.”

“Well it is good he has found a friend his own age and it is good that I have a chance to swim again! I did not think father would allow me a break, trying to match me with every Spartan lord over the age of fifteen.” Penelope complained as she unceremoniously threw herself onto the sand next to Helen.

Helen grinned, Penelope was much too clever to allow herself to be stalled by any of her father’s attempts to match her. No, if Penelope was being held up from spending time in the pools that she loved so much, then it was completely of her own will.

“Oh really? And I suppose a decidedly non-Spartan prince has nothing to do with your absence from our daily swimming sessions? I heard that he fell in love as soon as you caught him-“

That was all she managed to get out before she was shoved so hard that she rolled off the sand bank and into the crystal blue waters of the lake.

Helen almost choked on the water, her mouth had been open in unfinished laughter as she tumbled down the sand bank. She duly noticed that her favourite pink chiton would most likely be ruined forever, its delicate, rare dye not being able to withstand the lake water. It didn’t really concern her, she could order a dozen more but she still managed to shoot Penelope a glare as she dragged herself out of the water.

Penelope looked down at her with absolutely no pity before rolling her eyes and breaking out into laughter. Helen soon followed. By the time they were done Helen had crawled back up the sand bank and was next to Penelope- this time outside of shoving distance.

“So Prince Odysseus-“Another shove- she was ready this time and she dodged it.

“Wow- you must truly love him if he moves you to such violence Penelope” She made gesture as though wiping away a tear from her eye “It’s almost beautiful”

“I am violent because I know how you like to tease mercilessly…I do not want to be teased about this” Penelope’s voice lost its characteristic playfulness at her last statement, her face becoming soft and…vulnerable.

 _Oh. Oh dear._ Perhaps Helen had misread the situation. Helen knew she liked to tease and prod her loved ones, but she thought they knew that it was always out of love and care. Never out of malice.

“Penelope...If you do truly love him- I will not mock you. Please, you are my dearest friend and I love you truly- if you want to talk about him I am here to listen and I will support you. You know this.”

Penelope regarded her suspiciously for a moment before her face softened and she gave in. She talked and talked about how clever this man was. How he could match her wit for wit like no other man could. How he looked at her like she was a person, not an object to be claimed. How he respected and cherished her. How his eyes sparkled when he was scheming, how surprised he was when she could catch him at his plots.

She talked about the strength of his arms and how the sunlight brought out the red in his beard, how he was unexpectedly fast for such a short man and how he trusted her with his confidence. How he snuck into her private parlour and just…talked to her. About his dreams, about his ambitions and plans and destiny and his goats. Helen couldn’t help but laugh at that last point- Penelope laughed as well. The man had an unusual love for a kingdom that was mainly comprised of goats and rocks.

Helen had to admit by the end of Penelope’s blissful monologue about her new beloved that she could see the appeal. It was rare to find a man who bothered to even have a conversation with the woman he was courting. Most just offered a price to the father and were done with it- thinking the woman to be something bought and paid for. She knew of course that her brother would be a man such as Odysseus- respectful and caring of women but…she was unsure he would ever show any type of romantic interest towards a woman. She grinned to herself as she thought of her brother’s doe eyes following Achilles’ every step with a worshipful gaze.

She shook off thoughts of her besotted brother and drew her thoughts back to Penelope. Not only had she found a man who respected her but one that matched her impressive intellect. It was almost impossible; the gods must have truly blessed her cousin.

“Now dear cousin, because you have listened so well I have some news that may be of benefit, if you know how to use it” Helen perked up at that, Penelope always had the most useful information- how she always gathered such vital news that was not meant to be known was always a mystery to Helen but was a considerable benefit of their friendship.

“Oh and what news is this?”

“Your father has decided he wants to abdicate the throne” Not many things could throw Helen of balance- most of life was an amusement to her and she was there to observe- but this shocked her.

“What? But that is unheard of in Sparta! When will this happen? Who will take the throne?”

Penelope’s eyes gleamed. “Ah, you have asked the correct questions. Your father is old, very old and very weary- you should know this”

Helen nodded, it was true.

“As for who will rule, well- Patroclus is too young”

Helen nodded again. Part of her hoped that Patroclus would not have his birthright stolen from him but another part knew her brother- she knew he was not the warrior prince that Sparta needed and she knew that the mantle of kingship had never sat well with him. He had always preferred to be in the healer tents, learning their arts or following after his older sister, blissfully happy to be with her.

She was about to ask Penelope who would rule in his place but then it came to her all at once, like a bolt of lightning from her true father, Zeus.

 _My husband will rule._ If she were to marry a lord who was highly enough regarded but had no kingdom of his own, he would take over the ruling of Sparta. Their child would then solidify his rule and ensure the same bloodline would continue to rule Sparta.

Penelope saw the exact moment when Helen realised what her news meant and grinned at her. Helen barely noticed- for the first time in months her chest was blooming with hope.

 _I-I can stay here!_ She could stay in her beautiful Sparta! With its mountains and fierce but loyal people. She could enjoy the freedoms of hunting and swimming and running- all things denied to women in other parts of Greece. She could stay with her lady maids and friends. She could stay with her beloved little brother, she could watch him grow into a fine young man and protect him as he grew. This land was like a part of her very soul, the crisp air in her lungs and soft soil beneath her feet screamed home to her. She had been loathed to leave it but now- now she had a chance to stay! For the rest of her life she could stay!

Her elation knew no bounds, before she knew it she had tackled Penelope to the ground with a huge hug. She ignored Penelope’s laughing protests for her to get off, only hugging her harder and laughing out of sheer joy.

“Helen” She laughed “Helen, let go”

“No, never. You did this to yourself, now accept the consequences”

“I have more to tell you, get off” Helen got up reluctantly and waited for Penelope to continue.

Penelope adjusted her skirts and took a moment to wipe the grin off her face before continuing. More serious this time.

“My father…he objects to my marriage with Odysseus. He will not let us wed.”

“Oh, Penelope no! that is ridiculous, why?”

Penelope frowned. “He will not marry me to the prince of a tiny kingdom with nothing but goats and rough shores to its name. Ithaca is not good enough for him- he can get better financial benefit from selling me off to a Spartan lord” She sneered the last part.

Helen frowned. “ I will talk to my father, he is the king and-“

“That will not be enough. But…I have talked to Odysseus and we have a plan. A plan that benefits both you and us”

Helen paused. “I’m listening”

“I know for a fact- and do not ask me how- that your father is tired of failed marriage arrangements” Helen grinned, a lot of those failed arrangements had been the subtle work of herself and Penelope. “If there is no marriage between you and Prince Achilles organised by this trip I have heard that your father will invite all heros and kings of Greece to come compete for your hand. No games or wars, simply whoever brings the best gift will win your hand”

Helen frowned. She did not see how this helped her at all. Or Penelope for that matter.

“This is where Odysseus comes in. He will talk to your father and organise a plot to ensure that your father has a successor and a peaceful abdication. In return he will grant Odysseus my hand.”

Helen rolled her eyes. “Penelope, enough with the dramatics. Just tell me the plan!”

Penelope signed “He will tell your father that he has found out that he wants to abdicate” Helen grinned, knowing the king would never believe it was Penelope who had discovered it. “And that he has a plan to ensure it becomes possible very quickly.

He will suggest that the king does not tell any of the suiters that the kingdom of Sparta will come with your hand, that would only lead to war. What would also lead to war would be a dozen angry men who have failed to win the hand of the most beautiful woman in Greece”

Helen nodded, beginning to see the picture that Penelope was painting.

Then Penelope continued and Helen was shocked. She could not have guessed at the genius of this plan. Truly Odysseus and Penelope would be an unstoppable force once married.

It would all be arranged. After the suiters have presented, her father would announce that it was just too difficult to decide. Odysseus would then ‘spontaneously’ come up with the idea that Helen would chose her own suitor and all others would swear an oath to come to her future spouses defence if Helen was stolen- a fail-safe to prevent war, Helen would pick Prince Menelaus- known to be an honourable man who was distinguished in battle, but more importantly kingdomless. He would take over the ruling of Sparta which freed her father from rule, Helen would get to stay in Sparta as she wished while Odysseus cleverness proved him worthy of Penelope’s hand.

Her father, herself, Penelope and Odysseus would all be in on it but no one else would be any wiser.

The plot was sheer brilliance.

Penelope was looking at her hopefully, her entire future would be decided on Helens next words, she realised.

“I’m in.”


	6. Farewells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry for the late update. I have been in three states over the past seven days and I am exhausted.  
> IMPORTANT INFO:  
> I finally have a layout for the plot- it will have 3 parts, Sparta, Phthia and Troy. This is the end of part one. If you look back at chapter one I have added a little "Part one" banner. I'm super excited to get to part 3: Troy ( I have so much planned guys!) so I will probably make part 2 pretty short. I don't have exact chapter count but this fic could range from anything between 15-20 chapters.  
> IMPORTANT INFO 2:  
> Some of you guys may recognise my username and realise I'm writing another fic for this fandom "Best of the Greeks" I'm gonna have that one on the back burner until I finish this one- updated will be sporadic until I finish this one, then become more regular...I have also started another fic, because I can't control myself, haha. But just a notice to anyone who is reading both, that's how I'll be doing it.  
> That's all, thanks for reading through that info dump and enjoy this 95% fluff chapter as payment for me updating late.

 “-and then Penelope and Helen snuck back in before anyone noticed! No one else ever found out about what happened to all those cows- to this day!” Patroclus finished his spirited account of…something and waited for Achilles to respond.

Achilles did not respond. He had not been listening. Though usually he would grant the same rapt attention Patroclus always granted him, today he was distracted. He was thinking about tomorrow.

Patroclus frowned and shoved him. “If you aren’t going to listen say something before I waste my time!”

Achilles rushed to remove that frown from his face. He hated it when Patroclus was upset, hated it even more so when he was the reason.

“No, I’m sorry. I wanted to listen but…tomorrow I’m leaving.”

The two months he had spent with Patroclus had been the happiest in his life. He had never been an unhappy child, never considered himself lonely. But he had never had anyone he had wanted to talk to or spend time with. No one who he cared about enough to amuse them with tricks like juggling or spend time playing the lyre for them.

He loved spending all his days with Patroclus- each memory burned brighter than a dozen other memories from before he met him. The time they climbed the fig tree together and Patroclus got stuck, the time they were awake all night making up stories and telling them to one another- only to sleep the entire next day and be scolded, the time Patroclus sat down and told him everything about his life- how Achilles had held on to every detail to know this boy better and when it was Achilles turn to tell his story, Patroclus did the same.

He had faked interest in Helen to extend his one-month trip here to two months but time had run out and he had no other way to stay with his new friend.

“M-maybe you could marry Helen? Then she could go with you and I can come along as well? We could all live together” Patroclus voice was weak when he spoke, the words came out as if forced.

Achilles shook his head. “I already asked Helen” her response was unusual for her. He was so used to Helen laughing everything off, playing at life like it was an amusing game, but this time she was serious.

“She said that she couldn’t. That she loves you and wants you to be happy- but she cannot do it. She wouldn’t say why”

Patroclus nodded. “She never wants to leave Sparta. But I don’t know how she’ll manage not to when father is determined to marry her off to a king. But-but she wouldn’t be happy, I shouldn’t have suggested it”

Patroclus’ eyes took on a wet sheen, he wrung his hands together and looked impossibly worried. Usually Achilles would be upset by this but he remembered the how Helen had finished off the conversation and he couldn’t help a small chuckle.

Patroclus’ face warped into another frown. “Why are you laughing? Are you happy to leave?”

Achilles shook his head “No, it’s not that. It’s just that Helen- when I was done talking to her she said to me ‘ and don’t you dare come running back to ask me again when Patroclus looks at you with those big sad eyes’ I was just reminded of what she said”

He could see the annoyance on Patroclus’ face “She’s so annoying. She’s always saying stupid stuff like that about how I look”

“Well…”

“Well what?”

“Your eyes are pretty”

“…No they’re not”

“they really are”

Patroclus’ nose wrinkled.

“I’m a boy, my eyes aren’t meant to be pretty.”

Achilles laughed “what are your eyes meant to be then?”

“I dunno. Handsome?”

Achilles laughed and laughed then. So much that Patroclus tackled him- Achilles was feeling gracious so he let himself fall to the floor and enjoyed Patroclus’ look of triumph.

“Mercy! Mercy!”

Patroclus stuck his tongue out.

“No”

Achilles pushed him off in one easy move. “It’s alright you know, everyone says I’m beautiful as much as they say I’m handsome. It’s nothing to be ashamed about”

“Because you’ve never had to feel shame” Achilles would have replied to that but he shrugged. It was true, no one had ever dared to shame him and he wouldn’t know what the emotion would feel like.

Achilles mood quickly sobered as he remembered why they had gotten on to the topic. “But none of this solves our problem, I’m still leaving tomorrow”

Patroclus deflated. “Maybe we could visit each other again? I could go to Phthia, you can come back to Sparta”

Achilles shrugged. “Maybe” he murmured. It wouldn’t be the same, he wouldn’t get to share every little thing about his day with his friend, wouldn’t get to experience the little trials and triumphs of life with him that would slowly shape the men they would become. They would grow separately, maybe even apart. He hated the thought that they may be strangers to each other’s one day. That there would be a part of his friend that he would not have access to.

Achilles knew that he wouldn’t have such a close friend like Patroclus again, he wasn’t interested in friends. But Patroclus might find a close friend. No one as good as Achilles of course- no one was as good as him- but someone who was close by and would grow with him. Then Achilles realised- there was a way!

“The sea caves!”

Patroclus jumped, startled out of his own thoughts by Achilles’ strange proclamation.

“The…sea caves?”

Achilles nodded.

“My mother! She always asks me if I will join her and the other nymphs in their home beneath the sea! I’m sure she won’t mind you coming along as well, you are also a demigod. We could be together every day then!” Achilles was already formulating the plan in his mind, he would go to his mother, tell her-

“I can’t, Achilles. I’m sorry”

His plans shattered. He quickly scrambled to save them. “Why not? Don’t you want us stay friends?”

Patroclus shook his head quickly. “It’s not that Achilles! Mortals have no place with the gods. I-I don’t like it.”

Achilles tried to speak but was cut off by Patroclus.

“And I have responsibilities! So do you! I have my sister, I need to stay with her. And you have your father and your kingdom- I also have a kingdom!”

Achilles deflated. He hated it but Patroclus was right. Patroclus was usually right. Before he could speak he was once again cut off, this time by a hug that squeezed his ribs and wrapped him up in warmth.

“I-I’ll miss you Achilles” He felt warm tears on his shirt from where Patroclus’ face was buried. Achilles wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in the other boy’s hair.

“Come to Phthia. Swear it. You have to swear it” He ignored how choked his own voice sounded.

“I swear”

“And soon, come soon”

“I swear”

“And you can’t forget me! Not ever!” He felt the other boy smiling against him.

“Not possible.” Achilles was taken aback for a moment.

“Well good then” and with that he squeezed the other boy tighter, already dreading the time when he won’t be able to hug him like this anymore.

_**~End of Part One~** _


	7. Part 2:Phthia- Furthering Studies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, this is my longest chapter so far. I got a bit carried away, haha.  
> Don't have much to say except enjoy!

“In Athens, Patroclus will be taught only by the finest tutors in arts and in healing. Though your halls are great King Menelaus, a soul like Patroclus needs to be surrounded by great philosophers and thinkers. When he returns to Sparta he will bring great knowledge to your shores”

Patroclus watched quietly from Menelaus’ side. He knew that even though he was the one being discussed, it was not his place to talk.

He studied the learned philosopher who had recently gained favour with Menelaus. He was a man that looked to be in his fifth decade of life, with a salt and pepper beard and a soft body that had never seen a days’ worth of labour.

 A year ago, he would have been taken in by the talk, he wanted nothing more than to learn more of the healing arts. He had found a passion and talent for healing, he loved being able to help people but in truth his greatest joy was that he was unsurpassed in healing techniques. He could always be relied upon to think of new ways to treat new wounds or sooth the wounds of old warriors, he revelled in this talent that was his alone.

Yes, a year ago he would have been very tempted. But a year ago he did not have the experience of meeting other ‘learned scholars’ from Athens and the knowledge of what was expected of him in such a tutelage.

He was almost of the mind to demand Menelaus stopped hosting these ridiculous fools, but then- why deprive Helen of her fun?

As if she had read his thoughts Helen begun.

Until now Helen had sat quietly with her face covered as Menelaus conversed with the philosopher across the table. Though Menelaus enjoyed the conversation of such men, Helen had no patience for it and was eager to find an opportunity to strike.

“Ah, forgive me- I do not understand, who will care for my brother when he is in Athens? He is not yet a man, I do so worry that he will be led astray” She asked this in her sweetest voice. The scholar was captivated instantly- so captivated he did not make any comment on a woman daring to speak at the table, though many Athenians considered such a thing to be taboo.

“Helen…” Menelaus whispered, knowing where this would lead. From his viewpoint he saw Helen squeeze his hand under the table and saw the exact moment when Menelaus gave in- he had no particular love for Athenians, and he had gotten most of the conversation he wanted out of this one anyway. Letting Helen have her moments far exceeded the consequences of dealing with an annoyed wife.

The philosopher was unaware of all of this, poor fool didn’t know he was walking right into her trap. “Why, Milady- I of course will take on this noble duty. I would take him on as an apprentice and expose him to the finest tutors, along with my own humble knowledge.” He managed to tear his gaze away from Helens veiled figure to turn his hungry gaze on Patroclus.

Patroclus fought to keep his expression neutral and to keep his nose from wrinkling in disgust _Yes, I’m sure you would._

All thoughts of Patroclus were wiped from his mind though, as Helen chose that moment to lift her veil. Thank the gods for the beauty of Helen or he would never get any peace.

“Apprentice…forgive me if I am wrong but I believe Athenians have another word for it? What was it again, oh my memory is horrible. Pedi-Pederasty, correct?”

The scholar nodded, too enraptured by Helens delicate features, golden hair and sweet voice to realise what he was confirming. Menelaus muffled a laugh- he did not need to; the scholar wasn’t paying attention to him.

“Oh!” Helen remarked, as if she had come to a sudden realisation. Then she said, in a raised voice so the entire dining hall could hear “So you do not want to tutor my fifteen-year-old brother. You want to fuck him! You should have said as much”

The hall went silent. The practice of Pederasty was widely accepted in Athens. Where an older man would tutor a boy on the cusp of manhood and in return the boy would…offer certain services. But in Sparta, a society not as ‘enlightened’ as Athens, there was no such custom, and Spartans looked down on men who would take a boy for a lover.

Even Helen’s cruellest smirk looked lovely on her face. The scholar blinked and blinked again, as if pulling himself out of a spell. It took much longer than it should have for him to tear his gaze away from Helen but when he did, he slowly realised his error. He turned his gaze to Menelaus beseechingly as if to say ‘ _Please, control your wife!’_

But the poor fool had now drawn Menelaus’ ire. Though he enjoyed receiving the envy of other men when they beheld his wife, he could not abide by men lusting after what was his. He would receive no help from that quarter.

“I- well-“

“Though, it does make sense in a way” Helen continued over him, loudly. “I hear you keep your women locked away inside all day, sewing cloth and doing other useless tasks”

A wave of chuckles from others in the hall.

“A woman’s use is in-“

“Oh darling, if you knew what to do with a woman, you wouldn’t need young boys now would you?”

Riotous laugh now, from Menelaus along with the rest of the hall. Spartans- much like most Greeks- loved nothing more than to laugh at the expense of another Greek city state.

“Here in Sparta, we don’t need boys to do a women’s job. Spartan women can do the jobs that Athenian men struggle with” More murmurs of approval. Helen certainly knew how to win over a Spartan crowd, then again, she was Spartan to the very bone, while Patroclus sometimes felt at odds with his own society. It was true, Sparta was a more equal society (or so he heard) but valued war and soldiers above all else. As the scholar pointed out previously, Patroclus was more interested in healing. War and bloodshed made him uncomfortable, upset.

Patroclus became lost in his own thoughts. Though he would never want to go with any old bastard more interested in bedding him then teaching him, he did want to learn and he knew that he had learned everything he could in Sparta. He had to speak to Menelaus about it, maybe Mycenae or Crete where Pederasty was not so common. He would miss his sister- and the distraction she provided from his own appearance- but it would not be for long, he would return within a few years.

The feast wrapped up without much else happening, the scholar left early in shame and the Spartans proceeded to get drunk and make merry. At the end of the evening Menelaus began to eye a young serving girl, grinning lasciviously every time she gazed at him through lowered lashes. Patroclus glared intensely at his brother in law. He knew Menelaus felt his glare but he pointedly chose to ignore him.

Fine then. Patroclus stood up abruptly and announced loudly to the room at large. “I will escort Queen Helen to her chambers. Goodnight brother.” Menelaus had the decency to colour in shame.

 _Good._ Patroclus thought viciously. _Feel shame, you lecherous bastard. Talking to everyone how you have the most beautiful wife in all of Greece then shamelessly humiliating her by taking any serving girl to your bed._

He held out his arm to Helen and with a graceful curtsey she took his arm and they left together.

When they were safely within the walls of her chamber they began to speak.

“Patro-“

“how can you be so calm when he does this Helen? He is humiliating you, insulting our family to be so brazenly flirting with the maids”

Helen rolled her eyes. “Patroclus stop taking this so seriously. It is expected behaviour from kings and besides- you know that I truly do not care where Menelaus spends his time.” She had moved to her vanity and was brushing out her long golden hair. She was looking at Patroclus through the polished bronze surface of her mirror.

“But-“

“No buts, besides. I get my way when it matters. I always do” Her smile took on an…edge. That edge had been appearing more and more in Helens expressions. It unnerved Patroclus, like everyone else was her puppet and she only had to pull the strings. But then it was gone, as quickly as it came and she was once again his sister, whose expression only contained gentle humour.

“It’s better that he beds others. I never have had an interest in such things, sex bores me- Patroclus don’t blush, you are almost an adult- in fact, that may be the reason he has sought others to warm him” She laughed at this and continued on with brushing her hair.

Patroclus sighed. “I know, but that won’t stop me from being angry on your behalf.” She turned to him then, her expression gentle and placed her hand on his cheek. “ I know, sweet boy- it’s one of the reasons I love you so much- but you don’t have to worry about me”

They stayed like that for a moment, basking in the love they had for one another, their shared bond that had been built throughout all of Patroclus’ fifteen years. Finally, Patroclus broke away and went to sit more comfortably on some cushions.

“On to more interesting matters, we really should discuss your further education”

Patroclus groaned “What, am I to accept the offer of…I do not even remember his name. The offer of the most recent Athenian scholar, looking to-to”

“Fuck you?”

“Helen!”

She laughed, loud and clear at this. “While that was an attractive offer” He stuck his tongue out at her “I received a better one that I accepted on your behalf”

Patroclus sat up straight from where he was lounging on the cushions “Helen! How could you! It should be my choice!”

Helen only raised an eyebrow in the face of his outrage.

“Well, I suppose I could write to Chiron and tell him that you’ve rejected his offer to tutor you. It may be a bit awkward but I’m sure I’ll manage….” She paused, no doubt to let him process her words.

 _Chiron._ The greatest teacher to have ever lived. The immortal Centaur that had tutored Perseus and Hercules. How had Helen gotten in contact with _Chiron_ of all people?

“But Chiron teaches young men how to be heroes, I do not want to be a hero- I want to be a healer. This still does not excuse you from making a decision on my behalf Helen, I am still angry!”

Helen affected a pout, a fake pout.

“Well, I just thought since it meant you would be spending three years training alongside _Achilles_ you wouldn’t mind so much.”

His thoughts all came to a halt.

“A-Achilles?”

“Oh did I forget to mention? Whoops, well- who did you think extended the initial invite, he sounded quite eager to have you along, if the messenger is to be believed”

 _Achilles_. He had never forgotten those two months he has spent with that beautiful golden boy. It had been six years but he had never found anyone he had enjoyed spending time with more, his sister included. He had thought of him often, though in that vague way you remember pleasantries from ones childhood. He never really thought they would meet again. Let alone spend _three entire years_ together.

“He- He really was the one to ask?” His voice had gone quiet now, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer, for some reason his stomach felt tight with anxiety.

Helen nodded “He insisted, his immortal mother has arranged for him to go study with Chiron on Mt Pelion and he agreed only on the condition that he could bring a chosen companion. He chose you”

His stomach tightened further, his nerves increased.

“Oh”

She frowned. “Are you not happy?”

He glared at her “Well maybe if you had asked me first you would know if I was happy or not”

That quieted her. He took a deep breath.

“I want to go. I do, I just feel nervous. We haven’t spoken in six years Helen. What if- What if” He let out another breath. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t want to think on it. When do I leave?”

She smiled “You’ll be fine, it will not be strange and he will still like you. The way you two hit it off the last time, that type of friendship is simple and easy to start back up” He smiled at his sister, though he still felt nervous, she always knew how to read him.

“I’m sure Menelaus will be overjoyed. I will be tutored by a legendary centaur alongside a future king destined for greatness.”

Helen nodded. “You’re quite lucky, otherwise he might have given in if someone else of great power wanted to ‘tutor’ you”

“Helen!”

She shrugged “Trust me little brother, the only time you and Achilles will lack for conversation is when he’s so dumbfounded by your beauty that he can’t form words.”

He scowled at her. “That’s not true, he was beautiful in his own right. And my beauty does not compare to yours.”

“It doesn’t need to compare to mine to be overwhelming Patroclus.”

*******  
It was time, they had prepared for his departure for over a month but he never really thought that he would be here, standing on the docks as his sister gave her final farewell.

“Now remember, you must be back by Summer of the third year. Menelaus is planning to host members of the Trojan royal family, and a marriage with you and one of the princesses may be arranged.”

Patroclus had only be paying half attention to her, the other half of his mind too distracted by thoughts of the oncoming journey and what laid at the end of it.

“What? Marriage? Since when?” Helen rolled her eyes.

“You are not a woman Patroclus, no one will force you into a marriage you don’t want, relax. Menelaus will try to persuade you but you can ignore him. I will never understand why his fool head is so set on peace.”

Patroclus frowned at her.

“What’s wrong with peace Helen? There are many things I dislike about Menelaus but many things I apricated and respect. I do not think his efforts to build relations for Sparta is bad.”

Helen groaned and her voice took on a disdainful tone. “Patroclus. We are _Spartans._ There is nothing wrong with peace of course. But making these peace treaties and building up state relations, it feels like pandering. We are the greatest warrior culture in all of Greece, people should be coming to us to pay tribute. To go out and seek relations feels weak. It is not befitting of Sparta.”

“We shall forever be of two minds on that matter sister”

She sighed. “Let us not ruin our final parting with talks of politics, just be here before the third summer- Please?” She wrapped her arms around him in an embrace and he returned it.

Three years… he had never been parted from Helen for more than a week. He would miss her terribly.

“Be well sister. Promise to send for me if there is any trouble.”

She laughed “And you send for me if you are in trouble, though I don’t think that will be a problem with Achilles around”

“Sister-“

She laughed “I know, I know.” She squeezed him tighter, voice losing that teasing edge. “Goodbye my brother. I love you”

“I love you too” She graciously ignored the tears in his eyes when he pulled away as he ignored the ones in hers.

With that he was on the ship sailing away from the shores of Sparta for the first time in his life. He continued looking at the disappearing figure of Helen, even when she was long out of sight before finally turning forward to face the open ocean.

In a matter of weeks, he would be face to face with Achilles. The kind and talented boy from his childhood. His head was filled with worries. What if they no longer recognised each other? If it had been too long and their friendship could not recover? What if Achilles had become a brute? Or Patroclus was no longer interested him? What if he was stuck with someone who disliked him for three years? Or he was sent home early, how would he deal with the shame?

But beneath those churning worries that played over and over again in his head a thought came up occasionally- a small whispering voice that gave him hope.

_What if it turns out perfectly?_

Trying to hold on to that thought he steeled himself and tried to focus on the present.


	8. Vignettes 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, this chapter is different than usual for 2 reasons.  
> 1) I decided that I don't really want to recount Patroclus and Achilles time on Mt Pelion since we all more or less know how that went down. Instead I'm experimenting a bit and doing a series of vignetets from the POV of other characters observing their relationship- I have no idea how it will go down but hopefully you enjoy it  
> 2) I have split this chapter in half - this half only has two vignettes while the other half will have three. This is partly because I don't really like reading long chapters so I wanted to split it up for you guys and partially cos I'm pretty busy this week so I can either give you the whole chapter late or give you half a chapter early.  
> This is why it may probably seem unfinished. anti-climactic to you at the end- sorry guys , but the next part should follow soonish.  
> As always, hope you enjoy!- and if you can, I'd love to get comments from you guys and see how you feel about the story :)

Peleus was confused.

Now, as an old man, many may say that that was his regular state. But he was quite sharp usually, he always was quick to understand what was going on and the true nature of things.

What he currently could not understand was his son’s behaviour.

He was already put off kilter when his son asked him, almost pleadingly for an old acquaintance to join him during his training on Mt. Pelion. As Peleus understood it, he had known this boy for all of two months over six years ago. This would be odd in any circumstance, but especially so for his aloof son, who had refused time and again to take on a _therapon_ amongst the many boys who vied for a coveted position at his side.

But, he had given way to his son’s request, unusual as it was, as he always gave into his son’s requests.

If that was the end of it, perhaps he wouldn’t be so puzzled at this current moment. But that wasn’t the end of it.

Once, this Prince Patroclus’ s _ister-_ of all people- answered the correspondence positively with a promise of the boys arrival within three months, his sons face lit up in the happiest expression he could remember seeing on his child.

Two months into the promised time frame, Achilles could be seen by the docks everyday without fail- his keen eye sight trying to pick out oncoming ships on the horizon.

When Peleus asked his golden son why he was so eager for this boy’s presence the response was simple. “He is my dearest friend, my _therapon_ in heart- though it could not be in reality. He understands me like no other” A simple response yes, but still confusing. Had he failed his son so much that his dearest friend was a boy he met as a child for such an insignificant period of time?

His son continued to wait, despite being told that the Spartan prince would not arrive for another month. Between his duties as king, when his mind had time to wander, he sometimes thought of what this boy must be like. He must be a robust Spartan youth, he decided. War like and powerful, a son of Zeus with a measure of that inherit godly power.

His thoughts wondered back to another son of Zeus he had known. Heracles. Nostalgia rose in him then, of the greatness of the past and he decided that maybe it was not so odd this boy had captivated Achilles. Before he knew it, he started picturing the boy in the image of his long-lost friend.

It was with this resolution, this assumed understanding, that he rose to greet Patroclus Tyndinites, Prince of Sparta.

Only to find his expectations shattered.

He expected a shining, strapping youth, escorted by Achilles to his throne room.

What he did not expect, was his son- beaming with pleasure, though with a faint dusting on red across his cheeks that Peleus had never seen before- hand in hand with the loveliest boy he had ever lain eyes on.

Standing slightly behind Achilles with a soft smile on his face, the boy greeted Peleus with all due respect. His face was radiant beyond any expectation Peleus could imagine and his body well-muscled but lacking the bulk he had expected.

He took this all in, the boys beauty, his sons eagerness, the clasped hands and the looks of admiration each boy shot at the other when they thought no one was looking and he finally gained true understanding of his son’s recent behaviour. He felt a measure of relief that he had not failed his son, in not providing him with good enough company. No, Prince Patroclus simply held certain charms that no boy in Phthia could compare with. Likely no other boy in Greece could.

He chuckled to himself _Well, might as well indulge while he is still young._

******

Chiron had weathered the ebbs and flows of eternity, little disrupted the calm and still lake that was his mind. He felt perhaps, a tiny ripple on those lake shore when Achilles asked him:

“But do you think he, well that he feels for me? As…as more than a friend?”

It took Chiron a while to remember the emotion he was feeling, it was so rare that he had any emotion on any given day. Disbelief. That was it, he was feeling disbelief.

For over a year he had watched the boys as they learned under him. Patroclus had shown supernatural abilities in not only healing others but in his own bodies ability to heal- something that did not stop Achilles from fretting unconsolably when Patroclus had fallen into a ditch and twisted his ankle- while Achilles had shown a supernatural ability in all skills martial.

He had observed them together, had assumed they were already lovers in the way they exhibited the five types of non-familial love towards each other.

 _Phila-_ The love of the mind, that was so obvious in their long conversations that filtered through Chiron's mountain as background noise.

 _Ludus-_ Playful love, which showed in the constant games they made for each other, the laughter that rang out along the streams and forest paths.

 _Pragma-_ long standing love that had stood the test of time and separation from the boy’s childhood till now.

 _Agape-_ The love of the soul and unconditional love that he saw in their every gentle action towards the other. How Achilles would delight in Patroclus joy, how Patroclus revelled in Achilles skills without envy or resentment. How they accepted each other without hesitation or question

And of course, _Eros-_ Physical love and sexual desire. Well he had thought that they were engaged in _Eros._ Certainly, by the ridiculously awkward interest they showed in one another- brushing hands together, blushing and heated glances- the desire was there. Contrary to his assumption, apparently they were not in a physical or romantic relationship.

 _All those times they said they were collecting fire wood in the forest together…they were actually collecting fire wood?_  Chiron was nonplussed. Another rare emotion.

He had been so baffled by the question and in identifying his own novel emotions that he realised he had taken too long to answer and the usually calm boy in front of him was beginning to worry.

“Yes” there were many other things he could say but he only answered the question he was asked. “I believe he does”

The boy beamed at him. If Chiron could still feel emotions with any strength he would call the sensation that swept over him to be fondness.


	9. Vignettes 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So first up, let me say that you guys are amazing. I asked for comments last chapter and so many of you responded- it made me so happy :) Thanks so much  
> Second- I wanna give a huge thanks to the awesome person who beta'd this chapter: bintangy- she did me a real solid considering I was a bit tipsy when writing this XD and defs made it better quality overall. If you are interested in far cry or beautiful art in general check out her tumblr at bintangy.tumblr.com  
> third- This is the final three vignettes and there was potential for a sex scene here but I decided I didn't want to depict underage sex. I may do a sex scene later,when they're older but I wouldn't want to put people off who started reading this as an M rating by making it E rating. I'm considering my options but either I don't do one, or maybe I make a separate one shot and link it to this fic, but I need to think it over.  
> IMPORTANT: Notice that I have added the tag: mentions of past non-con. Its only brief,one sentence and is about a supporting character. It is in vignette 2 of this chapter, if mentions of rape/non-con upsets you feel free to skip it and shoot a comment my way and I'll give you a quick recap of vignette 2. I'm happy to do so!

His swift feet had never failed him, never in his life had he felt like he wasn’t running fast enough. But right now he was running as fast as he could and he still wasn’t reaching Patroclus quick enough.

_There._

He broke through a clearing and there he was. Sitting by the stream and basking in the sun. It was such an ordinary scene, too ordinary. Achilles’s life had shifted at Chiron’s words — wise Chiron, who was never wrong — that he felt that there should be a corresponding shift in the world.

But no, Patroclus simply raised his hand in greeting and went back to lounging in the mid-afternoon sun.

It was not as though he had not suspected that there could be more between himself and Patroclus. There were glances exchanged, interested looks and soft smiles. Even when he thought back to their childhood meeting, the connection was there. Something drew them together, a mutual fascination with each other and a desperate joy in finding one they could open up to so completely. But having Chiron confirm his most wished for desire- It had finally given him the courage to do what he had wanted from the moment he saw Patroclus again.

That innocent childhood joy had warped into lust as soon as he had spotted the young man Patroclus had become on the ship heading towards Phthia. He was lovely and tempting in every way. Achilles, who had never felt a modicum of lust for anyone- suddenly had what felt like a lifetimes worth of _longing_ and _desire_ flare up within him in one moment. It overwhelmed and intoxicated all at once and he had found himself…tending to his needs that first night and almost every other night since. Half formed images of their lips, their skin, their bodies pressed together would repeat over, again and again in his mind.

His fleet ascent to the stream had slowed now, his steps relaxing - not to stall what he was about to do, but to relish the moment. As he made his way to Patroclus’ reclining form he thought back to the previous year together. It was like when they were children, only _better_ ; they could talk and play and amuse themselves better than before, their conversations richer for the time they had spent apart. He had relished getting to know the man that Patroclus had become. A man who was, above anything else, _kind._ For Achilles, who never felt much of anything for his fellow man, to witness the love Patroclus had for humanity was…humbling. If that was not enough to make him fall in love, that kindness was enriched with his sharp mind and gentle soul.

He had loved Patroclus from the very beginning, but he only realised it the day Patroclus had fallen into that ditch and broken his ankle. He had felt such an absence of hope, joy or anything good when they could not find Patroclus that night.  He remembered his horror when they found him unconscious, his mind falling into despair when he thought for one moment that Patroclus could be dead and then the rush of relief when Chiron calmly inspected him and promised a swift and full recovery.

He knew he was acting overbearing while Patroclus was recovering, but he could not help himself. In his mind, every rock became a potential hazard for Patroclus to trip over, every blanket something to wrap itself around him in his sleep and strangle him. He knew he was acting unreasonable but Patroclus, sweet soul that he was, made no mention of it and allowed him his irrationalities.

He had realised then that he loved him. That he wanted him in every way for as long as he lived.

And with that thought he took his last steps towards Patroclus’ side, took a moment to examine the perfect face that was in closed eyed repose and leaned down to kiss him.

Patroclus screamed.

Then shot up, knocking his head into Achilles’ nose.

Achilles screamed.

“Owh! Patroclus, why?!” He clutched his bleeding nose as he glared at the other boy.

Patroclus had the most bewildered look on his face “What do you mean _why?_ Why would you sneak up on me while I was dozing! You startled me! Why did you…wait…you-you kissed me.” His voice trailed off, slowly coming to the realisation of what had happened.

Achilles was too busy holding his nose to care “Yes and you gave me a nose bleed, owh. It may be broken.”

That seemed to snap Patroclus out of it and his bewildered expression instantly shifted into his calm healer expression. He took Achilles face in his hands, turning it from side to side and examined his nose. Then sighed with relief.

“It’s not broken. Only bruised. I broke some blood vessels in the nose, that’s all.”

“It feels broken—“ He was cut off with a kiss.

Soft perfect lips were pressed against his own. Perfect Patroclus was kissing him and his broken nose was forgotten.

His mind hadn’t done it justice; the ghost feel of imagined lips on his own were never so soft. The feeling of Patroclus’ breath mingling with his own, the heat radiating off his body, _oh_ how his imagination couldn’t hope to compare. He never realised the full _intimacy_ of the act. He wanted more.

In a swift move he had his hands around the others waist and pulled Patroclus’ body flush against his own. _Better,_ he thought.

 In another move he had pushed Patroclus to the ground and positioned himself on top, taking control of the kiss, he gave into his instincts then and pushed his tongue past soft, pliant lips. _Perfect._

They stayed like that kissing, pulling apart then joining together again — unable to stop, even if they wanted to. Achilles relished in the feel of Patroclus’ body. Loving when he would kiss or touch him a certain way and Patroclus would make a new sound underneath him. He could drown in this sensation for all eternity and never come up for breath.

Eventually, Patroclus put a hand on his chest to stop him going further. Achilles frowned, wondering if he had done something wrong.

“Wait—Achilles,” He stopped to catch his breath, and Achilles felt a surge of smugness at that. “It’s getting late, how will we explain this to Chiron?”

He felt a small wave of relief, “Oh never mind that — he knows that we have interest in one another.”

“B-but, I don’t want him to think that we have been spending all this time being intimate.”

“Isn’t that what we are doing?” He asked smugly.

“Yes, but he doesn’t have to know that. Some things can be left private, you know.”

Achilles rolled his eyes and dodged the smack Patroclus aimed at his chest.

“Don’t worry, we can just tell him we were collecting firewood and pick some bits up on the way back,” He offered as a defence.

Patroclus, seemingly happy with Achilles’s excuse, wasted no time in drawing him back down into his arms for more kisses. Achilles let his mind go blank again, letting sensation, and raw emotion take over once more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

****

Mortals were like skin, stretched over rotting bags of flesh.

In all of Thetis’ time with them, that was the best description she could give. So ugly and dull compared to the gods, their voices thin and grating to the ear. Their inconsequential lives flickering by without notice from higher beings. She could almost smell the decay of their mortal bodies as they trudged towards death. They disgusted her, to the last, _they disgusted her_.

The son would be different, he would rise above the shambling masses and make a god out of himself. She would make a god out of him. She would make him rise above the taint that was his father’s blood.

Her son stood before her now, tall and beautiful. He still had the trappings of his father’s blood - the thin voice, the skin that did not quite radiate with godly health. But he was strong and golden like no other mortal and he would transcend his weakness.

He had grown since she had last seen him, as mortals do. He was seventeen years, five months and three days old now. She almost laughed at herself. There was a time when she would barely mark the passing of seventeen years. Now each year, each month, each day seems so significant _._

_Every moment passed is a moment my son trudges further onwards into death._

It was so painful — not something that the gods were meant to feel, the stinging fear of inevitable death.

 _Not inevitable,_ she reminded herself, _not for **my** son…_

And perhaps, not for the boy standing beside him. Clutching her sons hand in a white knuckled grip.

She finally deigned to speak.

“You are a son of Zeus. Patroclus of Sparta,” Patroclus nodded.

“Your mother has been blessed. It is seldom heard of for Zeus to visit a mortal woman more than once in her bed chamber. For her to beget two demigod children is an accomplishment,”

The boys mouth turned downward. So, they had been conceived in much the same way Achilles had.

 _Hands pushing her down, unable to move_ — _crying out but_ —

She cut off the memories trying to rise up before they overwhelmed her. Well, at least the boy’s mother had the dignity of begetting children from a higher being, which was more than Thetis got.

She examined the boy. Stepping in close and grasping him by the chin. She ignored Achilles indignant cry of “ _Mother!”_ and focused on the boy in front of her.

Radiant. The boy had received more than the usual share of godly blessing from his immortal parent. She felt in the air around them that her son has been fucking him, or at least as close to it that it did not make a difference.

She let her face split open in a grin. From the colour draining from the boys complexion, she knew it looked predatory. Good. Better for him not to underestimate her.

“Excellent choice, my son,” she was looking at Zeus’ child but was talking to Achilles. “I approve.” Then she let the boy go, ignoring the way his knees buckled as he tripped backwards.

She turned to Achilles. “You may leave now, son of Zeus. Achilles, tell me of what you have learned with Chiron,” she had taken great pains to arrange his tutelage underneath Chiron, and wanted to hear about the fruits of her labours.

“Mother! Do not treat Patroclus so callously!” Her son’s face was thunderous but instantly calmed when the other boy placed a gentle hand on his bicep.

“Achilles, it is fine. I want to leave. Enjoy your time with your mother,” then, with a nod in her direction, he was gone.

She approved even more, better that he knows his place. Her son was not done scowling at her and she took his anger with equanimity—his relationship with the boy worked well in her favour after all.

“Mother, I love him. More than I love anything—how can you manhandle and dismiss him as though he is worthless?” She hated that her son would feel an emotion that provoked such weakness. Love was foolish, but if he was to love anyone, it is fitting that it was the child of the king of gods. No less would do for her son.

And of course, he was allowed to love her as well.

“I have given my approval, what more do you wish from me? The boy will be useful in helping you ascend to godhood. It is best that you surround yourself with those of godly blood rather than the dull mortals that you are forced to wallow in the mud with”

Achilles frowned.

“That is not why I love him,” he whispered.

Thetis was done with this subject.

“You have not answered my question; how goes it with Chiron?” She saw the moment when Achilles acquiesced to her, saw the indignation almost visibly leave his body and be replaced with resignation.

He talked then, in that odd way of his. Gods talked in terms of accomplishments or in vindictive joy over their triumph over someone else, the stupidity of others in comparison to their own greatness. Her son talked to her of the taste of figs in spring, his admiration of Chiron, the time he had fallen out of a tree and his lover had laughed himself breathless. She listened to all his joys, his annoyances, his passions and angers.

It was all a stark reminder of her son’s frail humanity but…she thought of her sisters with their immortal children who grew from babe to teen to adult in under a month in the halls under the sea.

 _They don’t get this,_ she thought. They don’t get the pain of a mortal child growing and edging ever closer to death—but they did not get the _joy_. They did not get the connection and love that she received from and gave to Achilles.

She sat there and listened to all her son had to say. Then she demanded he stay longer with her—it had been so long since they had seen each other last—and they walked the forests together, her son showing her his new fighting stances and climbing up trees to pick figs for her to eat. She ate them with relish and when she told him that they were the best she had ever tasted, it was the truth.

When she left, her son he was seventeen years, five months and four days old.

 

 

 

******

“When will we arrive brother?” The young man asked with all the impatience that his youth allowed.

His brother frowned and got up from where he was kneeling at his makeshift altar.

“You know not to disturb me when I am making offerings and prayers to the gods. Tomorrow, late afternoon is when we arrive. Why so eager?”

The young man shrugged, carefully arranging his face in a casual expression. “No reason, just eager to stop travelling and perhaps get some real food in me.” His brother chuckled at that.

“Rest now, tomorrow will come quicker when you sleep. Dream of the feasts we will have when we arrive,” there was a lightly teasing tone in his brother’s voice, and the young man knew he was forgiven for any interruptions. He returned his brother’s smile and went to his bed.

As he laid down his head to sleep he could hear her whispering, as she had every night since they had met.

_Soon Paris, you are so close. Soon you will have your prize. The most beautiful woman in the world will be yours and with her, a love like no other._

He closed his eyes and let the goddess of love lull him into pleasant dreams of what tomorrow would bring.


	10. Sweet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it guys, the Paris and Helen chapter!! This is a big one and I'm super excited to share it with you guys, so let me know what you think- if you can!  
> Shout out to bintangy.tumblr.com (a.k.a- my queen) for editing and feedback :)  
> Hope you enjoy!

She felt his eyes on her before he even approached her. Not that it was hard, he’d been staring at her for an entire 10 minutes before bothering to make himself known.

“Lady Helen,”

 _Queen Helen,_ she corrected in her in mind but paid him no heed. Instead, she continued staring out at the sea from the balcony.

“I see you here often, staring out to sea. It’s awful to see such longing on such a lovely face,” oh _good_ , he was staring conversation. She supposed that meant he wasn’t going away any time soon.

“Are you saying that my face looks awful? My, _my_ , Prince Paris—what an insult to your host,” she retorted, lightly teasing. She didn’t hate the man, she just had other things on her mind at the present moment.

He laughed, clear and bracing.

“Dearest Helen, I would be struck down by Zeus himself for such a lie. Nothing could look awful on your face. I meant more so, that it is awful to see you suffer so behind these walls when you so clearly long for freedom.”

….She what now?

 _I long for freedom, do I? From what? My wealth, beauty and power?_ It was a good thing she was so baffled, or she would likely laugh right into the man’s face, and that would do nothing good for Menelaus “diplomatic overtures” —not that Prince Paris was helping much on that front, flirting with his hosts wife. _Dearest Helen indeed…_

She briefly considered telling him that it was not freedom she longed for, but for her stupid brother to haul his ass over the Aegean Sea so he could fulfil his princely duties as promised…and, _perhaps,_ see his sister who had been missing him for the past three years.

Instead she said, “And what do you know of freedom Prince Paris?”

“Please call me Paris, I feel as if I know you already,”

 _Apparently so,_ this was another line she would have laughed at if not for…those strange dreams. Before she could examine her feelings too closely about them, he proceeded to answer her question.

“Perhaps I do not know about freedom, but I know what it is to be trapped. By decorum, by my duties. By a gilded cage that keeps me from my heart’s desire,” and with that he shot a rather intense look at Helen.

 _Well, that’s my que to leave._ The man had crossed the line from vaguely amusing to vaguely annoying.

“I do hope you manage your way outside of that cage _Prince_ Paris, I must be off to confer with my husband on…grain samples,” She gave him a polite but stiff nod and a curtsy before making her way past him.

“Helen, wait,” she was duty bound to stop. It did not stop her from thinking longingly of her father’s time when they could just throw annoying dignitaries onto the nearest boat and be done with them. With that amusing thought in her mind she was able to brace herself and turn around.

“Yes, Prince Paris?”

“If…if the gods appeared to you and offered you a gift…a gift of either power, wisdom or love. Which would you choose?” There was weight behind that question. She had the ability to sense it but not the will to care.

What she did do, was finally let out her laughter. Once she was done she turned back around and gave Paris the only honest answer she had spoken in this entire conversation. “If the gods appeared to me for that, or any reason, I would run to the other direction and pray that I escape their notice for the remainder of my life. Good day Prince Paris.” With that she left, and was grateful that he did not try to stop her.

*****

She ran into Hector on her way to her private pools. She did not mind, Prince Hector possessed far more sense than his younger brother. Helen and Hector were both of the same age, so she felt as if she could talk to him as an adult. In comparison to her talks with his younger brother which felt like placating a little child. _Her_ little brother was never so annoying, she was sure of it. Patroclus had only ever been sweet and accommodating. She sighed to herself; she really did miss him.

“Why the sigh, your highness?” Hector asked from where he was casually strolling beside her.

She smiled at him, “I was thinking about my younger brother. He was due to arrive at the beginning of this season, but he has not arrived yet. It’s been three years since I have seen him.”

Hector chuckled, “What I would give to have such a break from all my brothers”

Helen grinned, appreciating his light humour. She had always preferred humour to wallowing.

“I hear you have 49 brothers and sisters, is that true Prince Hector? I applaud your parents if that is the case, I really do.”

Hector raised his eyebrow at that, “50 children, is that what the Greeks have been saying?”

Helen nodded.

“Only 50 children—I wonder why no one knows about the other 50?”

That startled a laugh out of her and Hector smiled back in that soft way of his.

“Truthfully I have nine brothers and four sisters Queen Helen. I love them all, but I am the eldest and so the burden of their discipline and their temper tantrums often falls to me. I am sure you can relate, being the eldest of two.”

Helen shook her head, “I cannot. My brother was the picture of sweetness from the moment he was born. His first word was ‘Helen’ did you know? And he followed me around like a lost puppy. I miss when he was so tiny, his eyes were almost as big as his face. If I ever even threw him a disappointed look he would burst out crying, It made discipline very easy.”

Hector did nothing but raise his eyebrow, “I usually hear little sisters described in such a way, not brothers”

“Oh yes, I annoy Patroclus to no end when I call him cute. But as his older sister I am allowed to call him anything I want. Do you not think so Prince Hector?”

Hector nodded with mock solemness “Of course Queen Helen, it is your highest right as his older sibling. As it is my highest duty to apologise to you for my own brother’s behaviour,” his voice became truly solemn at that point, “I hope he is not causing you undue trouble.”

Helen laughed, feeling charitable towards Prince Paris now, due to his brother’s charm, “I can manage myself. But please, call me Helen—I feel as though we could be great friends.”

Hector nodded, “Only if you call me Hector, I wish my wife was here—you two would be inseparable friends within hours.”

Helen smiled, “Well, one day I will have to meet her, won’t I?”

With that, they continued chatting pleasantly until they reached the gate of the pool.

*****

She woke up with a start.

“Damnit!” she yelled at the empty room. Every night, _every night_ this has been happening and she was done with it.

Images of her and Paris together, holding hands, fucking, having children, smiling inanely at each other like a couple of fools. It was as irritating as it was concerning.

Paris had only arrived two weeks ago with his incessant looks and overtures. Her dreams had started three weeks ago.

She grumbled to herself, seriously considering just drinking herself into a dreamless stupor. The dreams made her extremely uncomfortable and she had no idea as to the cause of them.

She turned over restlessly and tried to settle on her back. Minutes ticked by and no sleep. She sighed.

No, she tried to sigh, but nothing came out. She tried to move her hand to her throat, but it would not obey her. She was frozen, paralysed on her bed. She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids could not open. Terror shot through her, but she could not scream. She had always had supernatural control of her body, supernatural strength, sight, hearing and speed. Never in her life had she felt helpless.

She tried to scream again, nothing.

 _Hush, my child. You will be fine, beautiful Helen._ A woman’s voice, in her mind. It was grating and awful, but she could not escape it.

_You may speak to me, but with your mind, focus sweet girl._

Helen tried to get a hold on her panic, it took a while but finally she managed.

 _Who_ — _who are you?_

A long pause.

_All who feel love, desire and pleasure recognise me. Why do you not. Don’t you love Paris?_

_No, I love my friends and my brother. Why would I love Paris, Goddess? I do not know him._ Helen was not stupid, only a goddess could have such power over her. Though she never had before, she prayed to her true father Zeus in hopes he would free her.

_Romantic love, you fool! Sexual pleasure and desire is what I meant. The dreams I sent you should have made you realise your desire- enough of this. Eros! To me._

She felt another presence in the room, it made the air thicker, weighing down on her even further.

_Mother._

_Eros, shoot her with your arrow. Make her fall in love with Paris so that they can have a love that will last in legend for all eternity._

No. No. No

 _NO! PLEASE! I do not want that, I do not want a love of legends. I am already married. Please, I am happy_ — _I enjoy my life. Thank you for this honour you try to give me Aphrodite. As goddess of beauty, I am truly honoured by your attention, but I cannot accept your gift._

Even in her mental communication, with no voice to add tone, she sounded panicked.

 _Quiet girl,_ the goddess chastised. She felt it, felt her ability to communicate with her mind being cut off. She silently screamed again. Though her eyes were paralysed, tears fell from her closed lids. She had never experienced such horror, such absolute vulnerability at the hands of another being.

_You are the most beautiful woman to have ever lived. How can I let you rot away behind the walls of Sparta? I am gifting you with a great destiny girl. In time you will be properly grateful. Eros, now._

_I cannot._ A male voice, soft but with an undercurrent of danger.

 _Why not?_ Aphrodite’s voice had taken on an even colder tone than before.

_She is not one of mine, she is not one of yours either. I have no influence over her. My arrows can only redirect sexual desire, it can only direct romantic love where that capacity exists. It does not in her._

_She is capable of love._

_Not romantic love, not sexual desire. Leave behind your plots mother. It will not work this time._

The relief she felt was so strong that her tears intensified. A saving grace from an unexpected source, she did not think it was possible.

_No._

Helen’s stomach dropped

_I promised Helen of Sparta in exchange for the apple. I will not lose it._

_Mother, it is only an appl-_

_Be quiet! You will change her then, force those feelings upon her. Do not tell me you do not have the power. I birthed you and I know exactly the power you hold. Do it now._

_…She will lose all will, she will lose herself._

_She will lose herself and mould herself to the shape most pleasing to Paris. It is even better than piercing her with an arrow. With my abilities and yours combined we can achieve it._

If she could make noise, her screaming would have been endless. She would have driven herself hoarse. All she could do now was silently beg Eros to refuse his mother—her final hope.

_…As you wish mother._

Against all restraint and godly power, a broken whine escaped Helen’s throat.

******

Helen looked out over the balcony. She was looking for…Paris. Something in her mind told her that was incorrect but…she shook her head and thought no more of it.

“Helen!” She turned to see him there, her love, her world.

“Prince Paris!” She quickly dipped into a curtsy, blushing when she fumbled in her eagerness.

The man chuckled, his voice deep and throaty.

“Did I not say you could call me Paris?”

Her blush deepened, “P-Paris then.” The smile he gave her was radiant. She was overwhelmed.

“Would you like to accompany me to the gardens? The flowers will only compliment your divine beauty,” she nodded and took his hand. She paused slightly as they left the balcony. She was sure…she was sure she was forgetting something important. But then Paris smiled, and she forgot everything but him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't clear- Helen is Aromatic, Grey Asexual


	11. Parting Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So chapter 11 is turning out to me a monster of a chapter, over 3000 words. As I personally hate being subjected to long chapters and will therefore not subject you guys to it- I present to you part 1 of chapter 11 XD  
> its pretty short and is 100% fluff. The rest of the chapter will come out soon as a separate chapter! Also there are a few references in this to the end of chapter 4 so if you don't remember what is being referred too at the end of this chapter, chapter 4 is where you'll find it!  
> Thanks so much for all the comments last chapter guys! The response was huge! I'm so happy I got to read your reactions to me big twist lol. I was really excited about that one and glad I could share it with you all.  
> One final thing- my tumblr is https://secretslashgblo.tumblr.com/ . Someone in the comments asked for it and I figured I'll share it with you guys. Feel free to come by it and fangirl with me about TSOA or ask me questions or whatever. Its mostly just a place I reblog patrochilles and spirk art I like, nothing special. lol

He woke to soft kisses on his neck and the warm weight of Achilles body wrapped around his own.

He sighed blissfully and turned to meet his lover’s mouth with his own, smiling as Achilles peppered his lips with short, sweet pecks before committing to one of those deep kisses he so favoured. _How lucky,_ he thought, _t_ _o have this every day._

They would have continued like that all morning, as they were wont to do, if it wasn’t for Chiron’s voice echoing through the cave-

“Patroclus- the men will arrive to escort you down to the docks at midday. Perhaps ensure that you are ready to go by that time” this wry statement was followed by the sound of his hoofs clopping away from the cave.

Patroclus’ eyes shot open. He had forgotten. Today was the day he would leave Achilles. _And see Helen,_ his mind supplied. That was the crux of the matter, he felt an awful mix of dread and excitement at leaving. He wished his mind would pick one to focus on because the strange mix of the two was making him nauseous.

He pulled away from Achilles’ mouth but the other man would not allow him to pull away from his body. He stubbornly wrapped his arms tighter around Patroclus and buried his head in the crook of his neck. Patroclus chuckled and moved his hand up to stroke that lovely bronze hair. Achilles made a pleased noise and snuggled in further.

Patroclus smile quickly warped into a frown, he would miss him. Though he had spent a lifetime apart from Achilles, now he could not imagine a day without him in it. He had never been so happy as when he was with Achilles. He had never felt so loved or had known that he was capable of loving another person so completely. He could spend all his days watching Achilles run laps on the lake shore or listen to his lyre playing and be forever content. He could spend all his life with him- and he would. Only one thing encroached on his perfect happiness.

He missed his sister fiercely- he missed her presence at his side, he missed her insight, how she knew him so well and how he knew her in turn, he missed hearing about her day and sharing in their hundreds of inside jokes together and he missed her ability to laugh at anything- even when she was laughing at him.

It was that thought that finally gave him the willpower to pull his hand away from Achilles head and say, “Achilles, I have to pack my things and get ready. I cannot keep the men waiting. They have already delayed their trip by weeks at my request.”

 It was true, not being able to bear leaving his lover so soon, he had begged the Spartan convoy to delay their return journey. They had taken one look at his face and were suddenly eager to comply, tripping over themselves to please their beautiful prince. Achilles had scowled but Patroclus simply felt grateful that his appearance could buy them more time together.

“Let me go with you” Achilles muttered into his skin.

He laughed “We have gone over this already. It will only be for a few of months, then I will ask permission to be stationed in this region as ambassador from Sparta. Helen will ensure that Menelaus will grant my request. We can manage a few months apart.” He felt a pang at his sister’s name. He promised himself that he would visit her every year after being stationed in Phthia- he would not let three summers pass without seeing her face again.

He pretended that he did not hear Achilles mutter of disagreement and tried to get up for the day. Achilles refused to move his arms but before Patroclus could say anything, Achilles lifted his head.

He paused at the look on his beloved’s face. Where he expected sadness or anger, instead he saw mischief.

“Then you must promise to return soon. I won you from Helen fairly and if she does not release you, I will have to cross the sea to reclaim my spoils.”

Patroclus groaned and gave Achilles a shove while he laughed at his own joke.

“Do not mention that silly childhood bet to me. Knowing Helen, she was probably scheming how we would end up together from that very moment- all so that she could torment me with a hundred jokes about being your spoils that she has had planned since you won that damn contest.”

Achilles grinned. “It’s too late to avoid it. You’re mine now”

Patroclus was about to retort with a sharp comment but…as he looked at Achilles grinning face he was overwhelmed with the immense love he felt for the earnest, wonderful man in front of him. ”Yes, I am” He whispered.

Achilles face softened and they stayed like that for a moment, basking in the warm glow of their mutual affection.

The silence was broken by Achilles wicked grin. “Good. And besides-” He flipped Patroclus onto his back and climbed atop of him, settling between his parted thighs. Then he whispered into his ear “- Now I know _exactly_ what to do with my spoils.”

 

 

Patroclus, as it so happened, was _not_ ready to leave by midday. But he was a prince, and it was his prerogative to let people wait for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt from next chapter (To prove that part two is coming soon XD):  
> Patroclus could push aside his worry for many things. He was not worried when Helen was not there to meet him at the dock. She must have simply been annoyed at him for not arriving earlier.  
> He was not worried when the servants looked surprised as he entered the palace halls. Helen must have been very annoyed with him to not even have look outs posted to notify the palace of his arrival.  
> But when he entered Helen’s chambers to find a half-dressed man lounging in her bed he was worried. Well, actually- at that point he was past the point of worry and into full blown panicked confusion.  
> “Who are you?” the man asked.


	12. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE- If you haven't read chapter 11 read it now. It may be confusing since I only posted it up 4 hours before this one  
> haha, 4hrs between updates has got to be a new record for me.  
> Hope you guys enjoyed the fluff of last chapter- now get ready for the angst XD  
> This chapter is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.  
> I had a weird amount of fun with this one so I hope you guys enjoy!  
> Next chapter will be the final chapter of part two, then we are on to Part 3: Troy. (Remember when I told you guys that part two would be the shortest? hahahahahahahahahaha)

Patroclus could push aside his worry for many things. He was not worried when Helen was not there to meet him at the dock. She must have simply been annoyed at him for not arriving earlier.

He was not worried when the servants looked surprised as he entered the palace halls. Helen must have been _very_ annoyed with him to not even have lookouts posted to notify the palace of his arrival.

But when he entered Helen’s chambers to find a half-dressed man lounging in her bed, he was worried. Well, actually- at that point he was past the point of worry and into full blown panicked confusion.

“Who are _you?”_ the man asked.

Patroclus stared at the pretty boy currently occupying his sisters bed. _He w_ as meant to be asking that, not this Trojan- and he could be nothing but a Trojan based on the clumsy way he spoke the Greek language.

“No” Patroclus snapped, displaying a rare loss of temper. “No, you explain who _you_ are Trojan. Who are you to be lounging in my sister’s bed? Your answer better be that you got lost or there will be consequences.”

The man’s brow furrowed, his easy and languid demeanour disappeared.

“Your sister?” He asked in confusion.

Before Patroclus could respond, Helen herself entered the main chamber from the washroom.

He blinked at her. She blinked at him.

For a moment he forgot the strangeness of the past ten minutes, all he saw was his beloved sister in front of him for the first time in three years. He felt like a child again as he raced towards her and swept her up into a tight embrace.

Through his well of happiness and excitement he vaguely registered that he was finally taller than her. _Ha._ Now he had something to tease her with for a change.

As his emotions calmed he noticed two significant details. The first was that she smelt different. For as long as Patroclus had been alive she had smelt of sea salt due to all the time she spent with her friends and ladies’ maids in her pool. Now that scent was barely there, replaced with a perfume that smelt tart like berries.

The second was that she was not hugging him back.

He pulled away enough to face her and all he saw was confusion on her face.

“…Helen?”

The confusion on her face cleared “Oh-right. Patroclus. Hello.” She gave him a vague smile and proceeded to tug out of his loose embrace. Patroclus- completely dumbfounded- let her.

“I forgot you were due to be back. You must forgive me, but I have been occupied” With that she shot a besotted look at the man on her bed, which he returned in full force.

…. _What?_

Patroclus was-he didn’t- he- he just had no idea what was happening.

“You didn’t tell me you had a brother, gorgeous” The man’s languid expression was back. Patroclus wanted to wipe it off his stupid Trojan face.

Helen giggled. High pitched, ingratiating and completely unlike anything he had heard coming from Helen before. Her laugh had always been clear and loud- she had always been the centre of attention and her laugh showed that she knew it. Either that or the ugly choked and snorting sounds she made when she was truly in a fit of uncontrolled mirth.

“Oh, my love, I just never had the time- we were so busy talking about your family and Troy and…other activities. That I simply never got around to it” Helen’s face suddenly took on a clouded expression, it lasted only for a moment, before her simpering besotted manner appeared once more. But Patroclus noticed it- and it worried him almost more than the bizarre act she was putting on with this man.

The man rose from the bed, gave his sister a quick peck on the cheek and tuned to face Patroclus.

 “Prince of Sparta, I am honoured to meet you and apologize for the circumstances. I am Prince Paris of Troy, Son of Priam. Greetings” He finished with a deep nod of respect towards Patroclus.

“…I can see your dick.” was Patroclus’ only response.

The man- Prince Paris of Troy, apparently- frowned and quickly adjusted his badly draped chiton.

“Perhaps I should leave you two to catch up?”

“Yes” said Patroclus at the same time Helen said,

“Oh, there is no need, darling!”

Paris smiled at her softly and gently grasped her by the chin, tilting her face up to his.

“Do not worry my love. Being away from your beauty will only make me cherish it more when I see your face again. I will be in the hall once you are done”

Helen sighed, as though enchanted by his clumsy attempt at flattery and nodded.

 

 

When they were finally alone Patroclus expected Helen to say something, to give some sort of explanation about why a married woman would have a visiting prince in her bed. Or why Helen- who at best would ignore and at worst viciously mock those who fell in love with her beauty, would be entertaining such a fool.

But no. She simply went to her mirror and brushed out her hair, a vapid expression on her face. He sat there silently, having no words to speak as she turned her head from side to side, examining the angles and how best to pin up her hair.

“…you don’t like pinning up your hair” He finally managed, though only barely- his voice came out as a whisper.

She finally turned to look at him, looking confused.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“You don’t like pinning up your hair” He said, louder this time. “You say it gives you a headache because the weight pulls at your skull.”

“Oh” She said, a slight frown on her face, which quickly turned into a dreamy expression. “Of course I like my hair up. It looks better this way” then she turned back to the mirror to adjust one of her curls so that it would fall down the side of her neck. “Besides, Paris likes my hair up. He says it shows my neck to its best advantage”

Of course he did.

“So, Paris….” He trailed off, hoping his sister would take that as an invitation to explain herself. He didn’t know why he didn’t just ask-but he felt uneasy around Helen, for the first time in his life, it was like he didn’t know her.

“Oh yes. Isn’t he wonderful? He is so handsome and so strong too! He is so brave and has all the best stories. Can you believe how lucky I am? That he would choose me? Of all the women he could have. I thank A-Aphrodite every day for my happiness!” He ignored the way she choked on the goddesses’ name in favour of staring at his gushing sister.

“But what about your husband? Helen, what about the wellbeing of Sparta?”

Helen shrugged. “Oh Patroclus, you would not understand- love makes all those little things seem unimportant.”

Unimportant? Nothing was more important to Helen than Sparta. Helen had never longed for romance, she loved her life as it was. This was…it was just so wrong, everything about it. He could not stay in the room any longer- he got up and left.

Helen gave no indication that she noticed, too busy affixing a string of pearls to her chignon.

 

 

*****

 

 

It had been a week. One entire week of witnessing this simpering impostor wear his sisters face. The only thing to be grateful for was that Menelaus had been called away to deal with uprisings at the border. Otherwise this entire tasteless affair would turn into a war.

Actually, two things to be grateful for. The second being that he had a partner in his sulking. Prince Hector of Troy was refreshingly outraged by this entire affair and they had become fast friends by complaining about their respective siblings.

“My idiot brother wasn’t born with the sense of a dog. Swayed by any passingly pretty face- no offense meant to your sister- what was I thinking letting him come to the same country as Helen of fucking Sparta?”

Patroclus took another swing of Ouzo. “My sister has sense! She has so much sense! I have no idea why she is doing this- part of me thinks it might all be an elaborate joke but…probably not.”

Hector nodded “She did seem to have a good head on her shoulders…until she suddenly didn’t. No offence meant.” Patroclus waved his hand to indicate no offence was taken.

“It’s just not _her._ Not a piece of who I remember her to be remains.”

Hector shrugged. “I suppose love changes people” he didn’t sound convinced. Patroclus rolled his eyes.

“Not like this! I know what love is. It makes you into a happier, stronger version of yourself. Not completely change your entire set of values for some scrawny idiot will a small brain and even smaller dick.”

There was a poignant pause.

“No offence meant?” Hector awkwardly tried to supply.

“You are shining example of everything a prince should be Hector. I do not mean to disparage you. But all offence meant. All of it” He repeated savagely, taking yet another swing of the burning liquor.

*******

 

He realised that something was deeply wrong with his sister when they started talking about sex. In a vain attempt to connect with her he had told her about his relationship with Achilles.

Her response had been a distracted “Mmmhmm” as she was picking out her outfit for the day.

He had been so desperate to pike her interest that he had started talking about his sexual experiences with Achilles- talking about the last encounter he had with him and his mention of spoils. He hoped that it would get her to start teasing him so that he could feel some echo of the sister he knew. Maybe she’d even call the situation cute and he could roll his eyes at her and tell her to stop. He hoped for that more than anything.

Instead she hummed again and said “That’s nice. I don’t have enough blue in my wardrobe. Paris loves blue, it’s one of the colours of Troy”

He latched onto that scrap of conversation. “So you and Paris are intimate? And you enjoy it”

She nodded “Of course.”

He frowned. “But you don’t care about sex, you never have”

It was her turn to frown “Well…not with Menalaus, he’s a bore. But I like it with Paris!”

He shook his head “But you’ve never desired anyone, you have told me yourself. Do you enjoy the sensation of it?”

Helen blinked “I like being with Paris, I like that he is happy” but her voice was strange, it was trancelike and almost like she was reciting it from a scroll.

He felt a shudder of horror within him. Paris had done something to her. He had turned her into some sort of living doll for him to use. Patroclus would find out what magic he had used and he would reverse it. Right before he killed him.

He knew to the depths of his soul that something awful had happened to his sister and he would protect her, as she had protected him his entire life.

He stood up and gently took his sisters hand. She gazed at their joint hands with vague curiosity.

“I love you, my sister. From the moment of my birth you have been there for me when I needed you and now I will be there for you. If this is a curse or magic, I will find the cure and you will be yourself again. If-if you are in there, if the real you is buried behind this caricature of a woman- don’t be scared. I will find you” He had been studying her face throughout his small speech, hoping for any flicker of recognition or spark of life in her dull eyes.

Nothing. Just that polite and empty smile of hers. Patroclus swallowed back tears and tried to pull away.

But couldn’t.

He looked down to see his hand clasped in the white knuckled grip of Helen’s fists. Her super strength held him tightly in place.

He looked back up at her face and her lifelessly polite expression had not changed. It was unnerving…but that grip was also hope. There was a part of her left- there was a part of her that didn't want to let him go. He felt undue elation, even as he felt the uncanny horror of her vacant, pleasant expression contrasted with her desperate grasp on him.

There was hope.

He was jerked out of his musings when the air in the room suddenly turned thick. He could not breathe.

He suddenly felt weighed down by an unnamed force and a deep rush of despair emerged to consume him. Patroclus screamed, Helen loosened her grip. It hurt, it hurt so much- was he dying? He let out a sobbing gasp. Helen simply frowned, looking confused.

He was on the floor now, certain he would die- tears spilled from his eyes.

_Achilles. I’m so sorry_

Then it stopped. As soon as it had begun, no lingering pain- like it had never happened at all.

“Are you okay Patroclus?” asked Helen.

It took him a moment to calm his breathe though he still couldn’t talk. He nodded. Helen nodded back and turned right back to her closet as though her brother had not just been on the brink of death or whatever that was.

As for Patroclus, he was left to ponder the sudden heaviness he felt around his heart and the strange but certain feeling that he was being watched despite Helen’s turned back and the empty room.

 

 

******

 

 

He couldn’t believe it. He did not want to believe it. Helen was leaving Sparta. He had seen her leave the palace in the middle of the night and he had followed her down, all the way to the docks. There she had met with Paris and he began to escort her up onto the boat. Hector had already left with the first envoy ship, Paris had insisted on staying behind until the last. Now he knew why.

He was taking her to Troy.

In that very moment he saw his own future being destroyed along with Helen’s

His future with Achilles, where they would live out their days in sun drenched bliss. Content in each other’s presence and the love they shared. He saw images of himself as diplomat and chief advisor to Achilles burnt up into nothing. All those clever plans they made to rule a kingdom wisely, visit Chiron often, have Helen as their esteemed guest frequently and above all, those plans to ensure they would always be together would never come true.

Paris’ actions would start a war, Helen would be in the middle of that war and if Patroclus chose to go with her, he would be as well. But if he left Helen to her fate…she would be trapped in the prisons of her own body for the rest of her life. He loved her far too much to allow that to happen.

_I am so sorry Achilles._

_Goodbye_

And with that final thought, he called out to Paris and Helen, racing up to the docks in time to catch the ship to Troy.

 


	13. Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So this chapter was originally called 'rage' but I changed it at the last minute to something else- you will see why both are equally fittingXD  
> NOTE: I'm going to be interstate for the next two weeks give or take, without my laptop so I won't be updating next week as usual but we should get back to regular posting after that...unless I go on vacation.But after that, it will be regular again!  
> This is the last chapter of part 2 guys can you believe it? I honestly thought this was going to be three quick chapters to give background information for part three. But nope. It became way longer and I got way more emotionally involved. I will make no estimations for part three because I clearly always underestimate.

Someone was watching him train. Two men to be precise.

Swiftly Achilles changed his hand position on the spear, changing his grip in order to throw. He twisted around and without looking at his targets he threw the spear across the beach towards the two men.

He did not look at his target, but he heard the spear cut through the air and he heard the muffled thunk it made when it’s tip was buried in the sand precisely between the two men.

He definitely heard the two men shouting in surprise, one of them breaking out in an impressive amount of swearing.

Once the man had calmed, Achilles deigned to turn around to face the two men. Smiling languidly, he said “No one is allowed to watch me train”

The men were silent due to either offence or shock, Achilles did not care which. It gave Achilles time to examine them. One man was short with a red brown beard, the other one had black hair with striking pale brown eyes. They both had the bearing of royalty. Interesting.

It was the red-bearded one who spoke first. “What a fitting introduction, Prince Achilles of Phthia, son of a king and a goddess, greatest warrior of our age”

Achilles couldn’t help the swelling of pride he felt in his chest. Greatest warrior of their age- of all ages, according to Chiron.

The man beside him scoffed. “Some introduction. Is that how you greet all royalty who visit?”

Achilles frowned. “Only those who spy on me. You know who I am, now let me know who I am speaking with”

The red-bearded man nodded and made a mock bow with a flourish. “I am Odysseus, Prince of Ithaca. This surly fellow over here is King Diomedes of Argos”

A flash of recognition shot through Achilles “You are Penelope’s husband!”

Diomedes laughed loud and deeply at that. Achilles had the presence of mind to feel shame for the disrespect he had given Odysseus- to identify a man by his wife was to dishonour him.

Odysseus at least did not look offended. “Indeed I am. I believe I remember you from Sparta, ten years ago now was it? I suppose you have made my lovely wife’s acquaintance?”

Achilles nodded “She was a smart woman, If I remember correctly”

Odysseus smiled at that “She still is- discounting her decision to marry a poor Prince of Ithaca”

Achilles laughed at that, delighting at the man’s subtle, self-deprecating humour and Diomedes exasperated demeanour.

“Welcome to Phthia, two kings. I will take you both to my father and then we shall discuss your reason for coming”

 

 

******

After introductions were made, and a hasty feast prepared, the two kings did indeed discuss their reason for coming.

Odysseus, with all his charm and humour gave a long explanation of the situation but it was really very simple. King Agamemnon was amassing an army to take back his brother’s wife from the Trojans who had stolen her and they wanted Achilles to fight for them.

There was a long pause after Odysseus was done, the two men looked towards Achilles expectantly.

Achilles raised an eyebrow.

Diomedes rolled his eyes. “Well, will you fight or not?” He snapped.

“So,” Achilles said after a while. “Helen has left Menelaus-”

“-stolen. She was stolen from Menelaus” Odysseus corrected him. Achilles scoffed and ignored the looks he received for it.

Patroclus had spoken a great deal about Helen. More than that, he remembered her. He remembered a strong girl, filled with confidence and humour. She would never let herself be persuaded to leave- she was too smart for that. Besides that, her superhuman strength and speed would keep anyone from forcing her to leave.

No, if Helen had left, it was because she chose to leave, no matter what story Menelaus was spinning.

“So, Helen was…taken,” Achilles continued, “and you want me to fight in a war to bring her back?”

“I believe that is exactly what we just said, yes” said Diomedes, with no small amount of sarcasm. Achilles ignored the disrespect in favour of delivering his answer.

“No”

Odysseus raised his eyebrow.

“No?”

“I believe that is exactly what I just said, yes” Achilles mocked back.

Odysseus wisely cut in before Diomedes could respond.

“There is much glory to be had- all the Greeks have united under this banner.”

“There will be other wars.”

“This is _the_ war. The greatest war in history, all who fight in it will be remembered for all eternity- if you come, you would be remembered for all time. And there is more, prophecy-“

“I don’t care about any prophecies.” He really didn’t. He would not be part of the armed forces trying to drag her back to a situation she obviously was not happy with- he respected her wishes too much for that. More than that, he would not go off to fight a war when he was still waiting on Patroclus to arrive. He would not sail to unknown shores without him. They had a life to establish here in Phthia before they went off to make a name for themselves.

Regardless of how big this war may or may not be- he would not be separated from Patroclus a second longer than he had to be.

Thoughts of Patroclus brought a question to his mind.

“What does Prince Patroclus of Sparta have to say about this? I cannot imagine he is part of the war efforts.” It was strange that Patroclus had not sent him a message about all this yet.

For the first time in the entire conversation Odysseus looked blindsided by the seemingly random question.

“Prince Patroclus? It escaped my mind. He was kidnapped as well. Likely as some sort of hostage to keep Helen compliant or as collateral. We have no way of knowing.”

…

He said it so offhandedly. Like he hadn’t just pulled the world from under Achilles feet.

Achilles did not know what his expression was. He could not feel his face, or anything really- he only felt numb. But his shift in demeanour changed the expression on Odysseus’ face. He could not pinpoint the expression, nor did he care enough to figure it out.

“You were friends with the young prince?”

Achilles nodded absently. It was a good enough explanation to give Odysseus, though ‘friends’ barely even approached what they felt for each other.

“Well as you are his friend, I will share with you some knowledge my agents have gathered, something that is not known to the general public.”

Achilles hands shot out to grab Odysseus’ wrist so fast that the man jumped back in surprise. He did not jump far though, not with Achilles supernatural strength holding him firm.

Odysseus tried to tug his wrist out of Achilles grip to no avail.

“What?” Achilles asked, voice desperate. “What do you know? Tell me. Now”

Trepidation crossed Odysseus’ face. He answered, hesitantly at first but his voice gained strength as he spoke.

“My agent spoke to a two sperate men who were on the docks that night. The man had seen Prince Patroclus tied up and being dragged behind a cart. According to multiple sources he looked like he had been badly beaten beforehand, with distinct bruises around his neck and on his face. Not to mention the gravel wounds he received from being dragged. It was truly a horrible sight- or so I have heard.”

The only sound he heard before he lost control to the overwhelming rage rising up inside of him was a sharp, snapping noise.

Then the world turned red.

******

When Achilles came back to himself, he was surrounded by ruin. The opulent feast hall had become a mess of broken chairs. The long table he had been sitting at with the two kings had been flung against a far wall. There were shattered plates and smashed goblets everywhere he looked.

“What happened?” He asked to the room at large.

He heard a sharp intake of breath and he turned towards the noise.

There was Diomedes, hunched over the prone form of Odysseus. Achilles eyes fell to where Diomedes was clutching the other man’s arm.

The hand was lolling at an unnatural angle. Odysseus had a broken wrist.

Everything rushed back to Achilles. He had done this. Guilt rushed through him- warring with the rage that still burned inside of him. He had done _this_.

“I’m sorry” He whispered and ran out the door, trying to escape his actions.

He ran and ran until he reached the shore. He tried to calm his emotions, but he couldn’t. Guilt swiftly left him and all he felt was rage once more.

How dare they. How dare the Trojans hurt Patroclus? How dare they degrade him and cause him pain?

Fear and grief consumed him then. What if they had killed Patroclus? Poor sweet Patroclus who had never wanted to hurt anyone in his life? Who had dedicated his life to healing people? Did they not realise how precious the person was, that they were hurting?

No. Collateral. Odysseus had said he was being taken as collateral. Achilles clung those words desperately. They would not kill collateral.

But Achilles would kill them. He would burn their city to their ground, he would put hooks through their ankles and drag them around their city. He would refuse to send their bodies to the underworld and curse them to wander as shades for all eternity. They would pay for daring to touch a man so far above them, that to even look his way was a sin. Let alone beat and kidnap him.

Hector and Paris. He burned those names into his mind. They would suffer a hundred times more than they had made Patroclus suffer- and that still would not be enough. They would feel the wrath of Achilles, son of a god and greatest warrior of all time.

As he came to his resolution he felt the presence of his mother.

“My son” She said.

“Mother. I am going to Troy.”

She frowned. “I do not think that is wise. I have spoken to the Fates and-“

“I do not care for what the Fates have to say unless they say that I will find Patroclus and kill all those who stand in my way.” There was a stunned silence. He had never interrupted his mother before. Never.

She continued on, an icy tone in her voice that she rarely used with her son. “They say nothing.”

A moment of confusion broke through his anger.

“Nothing?”

She nodded. “Something…something has disturbed fate. They would not tell me why but their thread is broken. They cannot say for certain what the future will hold if you go to Troy.”

Achilles shrugged. “Then they are useless to me.”

“But they did say that there is a chance- a high chance that you will die. You cannot go. You must stay, there will be other wars.”

Achilles felt the brunt of his rage turn on his mother as a realisation hit him.

“You knew!” he accused. Her face hardened. “You knew before me that Patroclus had been taken and you said nothing! You let me waste time here, when I could have been going to find him!” He was yelling now, uncaring of the disrespect he was showing her.

“The boy is valuable to us, but not valuable enough to risk your life. There will be other wars and other boys you can take to your bed. It is a shame to lose such an asset but once you attain godhood these things will not matter.”

He felt his rage turn cold. “Leave me.” He whispered through gritted teeth.

His mother sighed.

“Do not-”

“I said- LEAVE ME!” he screamed at her.

Her face hardened once more and without another word she disappeared into the ocean.

 

*****

Six weeks passed slowly and torturously. His father and Phoenix instructed him on how to lead an army. His father’s pride at his son’s ability quickly turned into concern as he took in the cold determination in his eyes and constant unyielding expression.

He knew that his cold expression only changed when they talked about killing Trojans and that his face would turn wickedly gleeful. He knew it frightened his father on some level- he was sure it was an expression he had inherited from his mother.

Despite this he managed to hug his father goodbye when the time came- enough of his love for his father broke through his cold anger to remind himself that this may be the last time he saw the old man.

They set sail to the meeting place of the Greek armies. As they arrived he had a vague notion that his mother- still not talking to him- had drawn out his divinity to make him appear godlike to the mortal army amassing before him. He heard the men on the shores screaming _Aristos Archaeon_ -best of the Greeks- for him as landed ashore. He did not care, he was not here for them.

In his mind’s eye all he could see was Patroclus, bloodied and scared. He saw him crying in a cage, alone and waiting for Achilles to come rescue him, his hope dying every day that Achilles wasn’t there. Achilles would be there. He would be there with an army in tow.

He arrived for his audience with Agamemnon and almost flinched at the way Odysseus carefully did not meet his eyes. Achilles carefully did not look at the cast on Odysseus’ left wrist.

Agamemnon was a hawk-like man. His brother Menelaus looked friendlier in comparison but none of that mattered. They were a means to an end.

Agamenmon stepped forward. He opened his hands in a gesture of welcome and stood regally expectant.

It took Achilles a moment to realise he expected Achilles to kneel and pledge allegiance.

Unbelievable.

An uneasy silence spread, Agamemnon’s jaw tightened. As Odysseus stepped forward to speak, Achilles interrupted.

“I am Achilles, son of Peleus, god-born, best of the Greeks.” He said. “I am here to kill Trojans and to take back what is mine”

Loud cheers broke through the ranks of men, interspersed with chatter. The men would more than likely find out what he was talking about, unless wild rumours changed the truth. He did not care. He had said his piece.

Agamemnon’s eyes glinted with cold knowledge but before he could speak Achilles asked.

“When do we leave for Troy?”

Agamemnon seemed slightly off put but projected his answer to Achilles and the crowd before him “We leave for Troy tomorrow! We have delayed long enough, repair to your camps and make yourselves ready!”

Achilles nodded curtly, turned his back and left.

When Achilles reached his tent, he laid down on the furs and finally let the despair that his rage had been banking break through and flood his body.

He did not know how long it would be until he saw Patroclus again. Apparitions of his lover haunted him when he closed his eyes. He did not know which were worse- the images of him injured and alone in Troy or the images of Patroclus and himself as they were on Mount Pelion, blissfully happy and full of love. He missed his smile so much, he missed the feeling of his body pressed against his own as they slept, he missed his lovers’ constant presence next to him. But he could do nothing to get him back yet.

All he could do was curl up on his empty bed and try not to let the loneliness drown him.

 

  **~End of Part 2~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative chapter titles:  
> Odysseus- you did this to yourself, you lying idiot  
> or: Achilles-you poor naive child, no


	14. Part 3: Troy-Cassandra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!  
> So I wrote this chapter on my friends laptop without microsoft word- its probably not the greatest quality but all my thanks go to bintangy.tumblr.com for agreeing to beta and help improve a chapter that had zero access to spell check XD  
> I may come back and edit this chapter once I have access to my own laptop but in the meantime I hope you all enjoy!  
> This is more of a bridging chapter so not much happens- more action in the next chapter. From then on I have about 9 chapters planned out before this story ends and it will be pretty action packed from here. yaaay.  
> this chapter may be confusing if you don't know the legend of Cassandra, so if you read this and are thinking "Who is this random woman?" here is a link to her wikipedia page https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cassandra  
> Anyway, please enjoy!

When Patroclus imagined their reception at Troy he had not expected a warm greeting. He had, however, expected a slightly better greeting than a beautiful, drunk woman draped in rich fabrics stumbling out of the front palace gates and glaring daggers at them all.

"You will bring ruin to us all. Leave now—a storm follows you and it is one we cannot survive.  _Leave_ ," her words are slurred but still understandable. Patroclus blinked. 

"No, we won't," he said.

The woman rolled her eyes and took a swing from her goblet. At this point Paris stepped in front of Patroclus and took the woman by her arm.

"Dear Cassandra, is this any way to greet your brother after a long trip abroad? Come and give me a hug," he pulled her into his arms then, giving her a tight squeeze.

"You're too selfish to understand that you have doomed us," she muttered. Paris only chuckled and turned to face Helen and Patroclus.

"Please forgive my sister, she says the oddest things. She is a bit mad you know, but we love her," Helen gave a sweet smile and Patroclus nodded his head. Throughout their voyage to Troy, Patroclus had found himself firmly disagreeing with anything Paris said on principle of hating the man, but he found himself easily agreeing with Paris' explanation of his sisters behaviour. It seemed to make sense.

Cassandra pulled herself out of her brothers grip and tried to drink from her goblet, only to find it empty. Snarling, she threw it to the ground. She watched it tumble down the stairs for a moment before turning her eyes to Patroclus, her gaze oddly sharp for one so inebriated.

"I am not mad. I was cursed by Apollo for refusing to bed him—"You will be gifted with the true ability of prophecy. But for your arrogance, no one will believe your words"—that was what he said, I believe. And I will tell you something else."

Patroclus raised his eyebrow.

"And what is that, my lady?"

She pointed a finger at Helen. Patroclus saw Helen's eyes widen behind her gossamer veil.

"Your sister has been cursed by the goddess Aphrodite—have you noticed that her behaviour has changed? That she has become a different person?"

Patroclus nodded.

"Does it not make sense that only a Goddess could completely remove a persons personality and implant a new one?"

Patroclus nodded once more.

"Then I will give you this warning. The magic of Aphrodite and Eros combined can be broken either by Eros' will or by a love stronger than this pretence of affection she has forced on Helen," she paused then to glare at her brother, he only shrugged, "but Aphrodite will do what she can to keep Helen under her spell—she sent you a warning that day you declared you would help Helen, she gave you a taste of her power. Aphrodite is preoccupied now—as war begins to stir in the mortal world, so too does it in Olympus and she is busy building up support for Troy. Only Helen can break her own spell. You must remind her of what she loves the most before three months have passed or Aphrodite will come for you as well, for daring to try and break her spell. If that happens we are all doomed—the wrath of Achilles will be upon us and we will not be safe. Do you understand me?"

Patroclus nodded again. Cassandra frowned.

"Do you believe me?"

Patroclus paused for a moment to think about his answer.

"...No. Not really. Sorry my lady."

Cassandra laughed, sharp and bitter.

"You will be the death of him," and with that, she stumbled back into the main hall.

Patroclus forgot about the encounter almost as soon as Cassandra had left. He did not have time to think of a drunken princess—he was more preoccupied trying to figure out what was wrong with Helen and how he could save her. With a mental shrug he turned to his companions and suggested they make their formal entrance into the Trojan Palace. Better to get the encounter over and done with.

 

 

***********

 

 

Patroclus was mortified. He should have known better than to credit Paris with anything approaching subtlety, but this was ridiculous.

After their odd encounter with the princess, he had expected that they would make their way to Paris' rooms, then wait for Paris to seek a private audience with his father to explain the matter.

But Paris, being a force of nature and of stupidity, had walked through the main hall and into the feast area where the royal family and the nobility of Troy had gathered. He had walked through the rows of muttering nobles down to the main table where King Priam and Queen Hecuba sat, dragging a pliant Helen behind him by the wrist.

Then, holding up Helen's wrist, his voice bursting with arrogant pride he announced to his father and the hall at large—"Father, this is Helen. formerly of Sparta, now of Troy. We are in love and she has run away from her brutish husband to be with me. She humbly asks for sanctuary," nothing about his manner or words suggested humbleness.

The sudden silence of the hall was only broken by Helen's soft sigh. He turned to look at his sister. By the look on her face, it seemed like she found this entire display romantic rather than a horrifying declaration of war.

The silence of the hall broke at once into chaos; nobles were shouting either in outrage or support. Plates were clattering on the floor, goblets had been tipped over as nobles hastily stood up to add their own voices to the deafening arguments happening around the halls. 

When the noise was suddenly cut off, with nobles even stopping mid sentence, Patroclus was baffled. He looked around to find the source of this sudden silence and found that King Priam had raised his hand for silence. It impressed Patroclus, that he had such control over his court. That either indicated great fear or great love for a ruler—Patroclus guessed it was the latter.

"Paris, my son. These are bad tidings you have brought to our halls. You went to Sparta as a guest and have stolen your hosts wife. How can we insult our allies like this? What where you thinking?" Patroclus felt a surge of hope at the kings words. Maybe this horrible ordeal will end before it even begins. Helen would go back to Sparta, he would send for Achillies and together they would find a way to heal her.

Right after Priam had spoken, as if on que, Helen threw off her veil to reveal her beautiful, crying face and fell to her knees in supplication.

"Oh great King of Troy. I beg you for sanctuary. I have been mistreated and miserable for my whole life before I met Paris. My beauty was my curse—no one could see past my appearance," she shot a sweet look at Paris then returned her wet gaze to the entranced king, "but Paris was different. I only fled to Troy because I know of the honour and strength of your city. I throw myself at your mercy for I know you are a pious and honourable man. I know that any action my former husband may take, it cannot harm mighty Troy. Please, if I go back I shall die your highness. Not of abuse, for my body has become used to it, but of heartbreak. Please do not send me back to my death." She then bowed her head, but at a soft sound from Paris she quickly tilted her face up so that all could see her.

All around them nobles started muttering. He caught some words "beautiful", "sanctuary", "the strength of Troy", "dishonourable Greeks" were among the few. It seemed like pleading words from a beautiful women was enough to sway the crowds. He could see her beauty work its spell on the nobles, he could see how her words stroked their pride over their city—the words of a Greek woman lauding Troy over Sparta filled them with pride.

Patroclus was filled with rage. He had misjudged Paris. He was stupid, yes, but also cunning. He had known that Priam could not reject a plea for sanctuary in front of his nobles without seeming weak in front of his court. No man could afford to look weak, much less a king. He had brought Helen in front of the entire court and most likely coached her on what to say, letting her beauty and words sway the crowd so that Priam would have no choice but to grant sanctuary. 

The smug look on Paris' face confirmed his theory and the tightening of Priam's mouth confirmed that he knew exactly what his son was up to. Before Priam could speak, Queen Hecuba placed her hand on top of his. They exchanged glances and Priam's gaze softened, the lines around his mouth relaxing. 

It was at this moment that Patroclus caught the eye of Hector. Hector had been watching the silent exchange between his parents with the same look of mounting horror that was mostly likely displayed on Patroclus' face as well. Hector turned to Patroclus and gave him a look that successfully conveyed the sentiment 'What is going on and why did you let this happen?'

Patroclus gave him a hopeless look and a shrug that he hoped conveyed 'I have no control over these two and I am so sorry' It seemed to work because Hector simply sighed in frustration and brought his hand up to rub his temples, as though trying to chase away a headache.

"Helen, what is the meaning of this? You have better sense then to run away from Troy. From our early conversations you never indicated you were unhappy with Menelaus. You indicated you were unhappy with Paris' attentions. What has changed?"

Helen looked shocked to be addressed directly, but before she could reply to Hector, Paris stepped in.

"Love happened brother. She did not want to give in to her feelings but—"

"I asked Helen, not you brother." Hector sharply cut him off and tuned back to Helen.

Helen frowned. "It...it is as my beloved says, my lord."

Before Hector could continue questioning her Priam broke his silence.

"Enough of this! Hector, my wise son—you have always erred on the side of caution and I applaud you for this. But this woman needs sanctuary and one of my sons has found true love. This is a joyous occasion and we will grant sanctuary."

An uproar of approval echoed through the hall, Trojan nobles, shouting and clapping at their kings honourable actions and defiance of inferior Sparta.

Priam's "Welcome, Helen of Troy" was drowned out by the noise but one sound pierced through the hall, causing silence to follow in its wake. It was a sharp, bitter sound that cut through the jubilant mood of the hall.

They all turned to face the source. It was Princess Cassandra, equipped with another goblet of wine, with bitter tears streaming down her face. When she finally stopped her mirthless laughter and realised that everyone was looking at her, she gave a manic grin.

"Oh don't mind me. I just had another vision. Seems like I'm going to be raped by the king of Mycenae and then murdered by his wife." She broke down into more sobbing laughter at her own words. King Priam raised an eyebrow and turned back to his guests.

"Well, lets see about arranging your accommodation shall we?"


	15. Assassin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eros POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, sorry for the late update. Got back from Sydney a few days ago then lost all motivation. This one took ages to write but I quite like it. Hope you enjoy!  
> Also thanks to all the awesome people who reviewed and sorry it took me so long to reply!

Eros was annoyed. Extremely annoyed.

All he wanted was to go home to his wife, make love endlessly and then maybe sleep for a millennia or two.

Instead he was lurking in the hallways of some human city he never bothered to learn the name of, stalking a son of Zeus.

Ignoring the fact that lurking was beneath Eros, god of romantic love, he was also disquieted by what brought him here.

He thought back to his encounter with his mother. Aphrodite had accosted him on his way back to his own palace and had demanded that he punish the brother of Helen for some transgression or another. He had of course said no- he was in no mood to exert that much effort to settle his mother’s whims. The she asked again, then demanded, then screeched and screamed at him to obey her. At that point he just groaned and agreed to her request- on the condition that she would not talk to him for at least two thousand years. Two thousand blissful years. She had agreed, face alight with victory.

Which brought him here, disguised as a human servant- observing the ridiculously predictable humans that came his way. The current ridiculous specimen was Kristos, a fellow servant who was friends with Euryanex- Euryanex being the head servant of the guest quarters that the son of Zeus was currently inhabiting, and therefore the mortal man he had killed and taken the form of.

“The serving wench Myrine is a sly one. She was making so many overtures towards me but as soon as I act on it she became angry. Women are tricky, always stringing men along”

Eros sighed, long and heavy. “No Kristos. All she did was smile at you and you decided that meant she had fallen in love with you. She was just being polite.”

Kristos frowned at him. “You have changed Euryanex. What bitch are you fucking that’s got you acting like a fool?”

Psyche, goddess of the human soul and his wife was who he was fucking, though of course he couldn’t say that. He decided that he would curse Kristos to fall in love with a pig once he returned to his divine form. Occupied with that happy thought, he was able to tune out the idiot and focus on his next move.

The reason Eros was disguised as a human was because Aphrodite could not directly harm another child of Zeus so soon after harming Helen. Not that Zeus cared at all for his mortal children- Eros doubted he even cared about his immortal ones- but to hurt too many of them in so short a time was seen as an act of disrespect towards Zeus at best, or at worst he would see it as a challenge to his sovereignty. Zeus did not take challenges well.

So, Eros had to work his magic through subtly and deceit. He would get close to the boy and poison his food with a potion made by the witch goddess Pasiphae. The potion was a cruder version of what they had done to Helen. It would make him a mindless doll, but since he had to rely on potions, not his own power so that he could avoid Zeus’ notice, it would destroy the boys mind in the process. Eros pushed down anything he may feel about what he was about to do- this would achieve Aphrodite’s goal of making the boy pliant instead of the nuisance that he had been by trying to pry his sister out of Aphrodite’s grasp.

There was only one unexpected problem…Eros was a terrible servant.

A by-product of being a god meant that he didn’t have the best grasp of time. Especially not the concept of hours or days or months that were like nothing to the gods. He had found himself missing deadlines, serving meals late or too early and this had gotten him banned from Euryanex’s usual duties in the guest quarters.

He would have to sneak into the boy’s chambers while he slept and feed him the poison. He would do it tonight, the sooner he left this place the better.

*****

Eros was on his way to Patroclus’ quarters that night when he heard his mortal name being called.

“Euryanex, a moment if you will.” Eros turned to see Prince Hector calling for him. Hector was one of the few mortals Eros knew by name, being an exceptionally pious man who gave frequent and ample offerings to the gods, he was known and liked by most gods.

“Yes?” He asked.

Hector frowned but continued.

“I want to ask how Patroclus is fairing? Has he been eating well? Does he seem distressed? I admit I have not had the time to see him and I would like to know his state of mind.”

Eros frowned.

“Who is Patroclus?”

There was a long pause.

“Prince Patroclus of Sparta. Son of Zeus, brother of Princess Helen? The only occupant of our guest quarters.” Hector seemed mad, Eros noted.

Patroclus, that was the boy’s name. Eros had made an effort not to know it, it made his task easier.

“He is fine” He said, noncommittedly. He probably was fine, as far as Eros knew.

Eros could tell that Hector was about to yell at him. But luckily at that moment Helen entered the hallway and Hectors expression turned to one of concern. Good thing for Hector too, Eros would not enjoy punishing him later for showing disrespect to a god, regardless of form.

“Helen! How are you?” He called.

The mindless doll turned to him and gave a vacant smile.

“I am well! Thank you, Prince Hector.” She said

Hector gave a weak chuckle. “Are we no longer on a name only basis then Helen? What happened to our shared bond of being exasperated older siblings.”

Helen’s expression went blank and clouded. Damn it. That meant that Hector had invoked a memory of her true self. Whatever he was talking about brought Helen closer to who she really was and the spell, sensing a threat was now working hard to erase the feeling and sensations attached to the memory. He had thought only Patroclus was putting the spell under stress, looks like Hector was another unexpected source of danger.

Her expression cleared, the spell had done its work. “Oh, of course we are on a first name basis. I have been so preoccupied with spending time with my beloved I almost forgot. Is that not funny?” She asked with a smile.

Hector did not. “There was a time not so long ago that you had a very different sense of humour.”

Helen shrugged. “Things change when you fall in love. I had best be off, Paris is expecting me”

“Wait!” Exclaimed Hector. Helen paused and looked at him.

“I do not pretend to understand this change in you. But we were friends once, and that is not a bond I take lightly. Let us go together to visit your brother? I am sure he misses you.”

Helen paused for a very long moment, her face blank. “Okay.” She said simply and held out her arm for Hector to take.

That…wasn’t right. Her imperative should always be to prioritise Paris. That was how the spell was designed.

He watched as Hector took her arm and escorted her to Patroclus’ room, talking about inane topics as they went.

Perhaps some mortals were not as predictable as he thought.

Eros signed. There went his opportunity to poison Patroclus tonight. Though he could not really bring himself to be upset by it.

*****

As Eros poured the contents of a latrine over the battlements, he decided that he would force the head servant to fall in love with a giant cyclops.

Apparently, the head servant had heard of his ‘extreme disrespect towards the crown prince’ and assigned him latrine duty. How humans dealt with having to expel waste from their bowels every day he did not know. It was truly disgusting and reminded him why so many gods looked down on mortals.

A splash of the latrines contents rebounded from the edge of the battlements and hit his face.

…Well, that sealed the head servants fate of being eaten by a confused cyclops that he was propositioning.

His thoughts were drowned out by the horn of war being blown. The once quiet battlements erupted into chaos that he was swept up in. Soldiers ran to take positions, there were shouts of confusion. He witnessed it all, unable to get away in the sudden crush of people.

“The Greeks are coming!” Yelled one commander.

“From which kingdom?” A soldier called.

The commander shook his head. “There are too many ships. It seems there are over a thousand ships”

It was strange, Eros himself did not feel dread but the cold wave of horror that enveloped the soldiers seemed to wash over him as well.

After that it was an easy matter to slip away and down the corridor. As he made his way down the narrow stairway he was interceded by none other than Patroclus himself.

“Excuse me! Can you tell me what is happening? I hear that the Spartans have arrived.”

Eros frowned. “They have indeed.”

“I must go see.” The boy tried to get past him but Eros grabbed him and held tight. The boy’s eyes widened in shock.

“Let go of-“

“It is not only the Spartans that have arrived. One thousand ships have accompanied them. It is an alliance of the Greeks.”

The boy’s eyes became even wider than before, his mouth opened in shock.

“..But why? Surely not just for Helen…I must-“

“You must do nothing. The men up there will not take kindly to a Spartan prince on the battlements during an invasion attempt.”

It stuck Eros as odd that he was trying to preserve the life of a boy he was planning to harm anyway. But here he was.

The boy seemed to slowly return to his senses. He slumped in Eros’ grasp, as if all the fight had drained out of him at once.

“They-they will ask to talk right? Maybe this mess will be sorted then. Right?” He looked hopefully up at Eros. The sadness in his eyes struck him. The boy was so miserable he was looking to a random servant for reassurance.

“Maybe it will”

Eros doubted it. The gods wanted this war and it would happen. The gods were bored and had jumped onto this conflict with relish, taking sides and blessing their chosen heroes. Nothing would stop it. But let the boy hope, while he still had a mind left to think such things.

The boy nodded and pulled himself together, removing himself from Eros’ grasp. Before he turned to leave he paused.

“Did…did you know if Phthia was part of the Greek army?”

Though the servant Euryanex would have no way of knowing this information, Eros the god did.

“Yes, they are. Headed by Prince Achilles”

The look of relief and love on the boy’s face was so strong he had to look away. The look reminded him of a time, many years ago, when he had stood unseen on the shores of a Spartan beach witnessing two young demi-gods meet each other for the first time. They had not needed one of Eros’ arrows then to fall in love. Eros was simply drawn there to see the birth of a love so strong it could change the world.

*****

He had finally gained entrance into Patroclus’ quarters. Finally. He was almost free to go to his wife and ignore the affairs of mortals- and most importantly, his mother- for the next few millennia. He couldn’t wait.

All the Trojan nobles and were either in conference about the war or in the main hall gossiping. Patroclus, as a Spartan native could not be trusted and was sent to his quarters early. Eros had seized the chance while everyone was distracted to slip into his quarters and make his way to the room.

He entered the large receiving room and realised he would have to go through the lounge area before he reached the bedroom where the prince surly slept this late at night. Lucky for him, the lounge area was lit by a fire, so he could take a moment to prepare the poison before administering it.

As he entered the room he paused. He smelt something. A familiar sent, though with his mortal senses it did not have the same powerful, pleasurable effect on him. It was the smell of burnt offerings. The parts of meals and drink mortals would sacrifice in a fire for the gods to receive- gods loved the taste and smell, thriving on these offerings.

…But why was Patroclus making offering at this time of night? Usually offering were done at meal times and for prayer.

“Hello Eros”

He turned, cursing his feeble human senses for not noticing another presence in the room. It had not been a man’s voice that had spoken.

Standing there was Cassandra of Troy, the seeress cursed by Apollo during one of his many spoiled tantrums.

Of course, she would know who he was. Part of Apollo’s curse had been that she would always see true. She was the most powerful seer in the mortal world, but no other mortal would believe her prophecies. She, of all people, would have seen him coming.

“Get out of my way.” He said, letting some of his divine voice slip through his mortal guise.

She smiled almost sweetly, though her mouth still had a bitter twist to it. “Of course I will. I am done here anyway.”

She curtsied in a way that struck Eros as ironic then made her way to leave.

He couldn’t resist asking. “What are you done with?”

She had been waiting for him to ask. With a satisfied smirk she turned and said.

“Oh, nothing really. After Apollo’s curse, I learned the value of piety. I had just finished my prayers and offerings to Zeus. Praying for the health and safety of his dear child as a god walks in the guise of a mortal.”

Eros’ blood ran cold.

“You bitch” Her smirk turned into a full-blown grin, but before he could do anything he felt a sharp, tugging pain.

He was being drawn back to Olympus to face punishment for his actions.

*****

He could still smell the ozone from where Zeus had struck him with a lightning bolt, could feel his skin cracked and burned, stitching itself together at a supernatural speed. He was in so much pain. Gods did not do well with pain.

In the aftermath his mother had held him, muttering soothing words and stroking his hair. He had leaned into her touch, buried his face into her collarbone and sobbed.

“It is okay, my boy. My poor sweet boy.” She whispered. He hugged her tighter.

“We will get our revenge another way.”

He pulled out of her grasp to face her. She winched. She hated ugliness and though his face was recovering quickly, burn marks still disfigured him.

“What revenge mother? No. I refuse to go along with your plans any more. This has been ridiculous from the start. I will go home to my wife and that will be the end of it.”

Her arms tightened around him.

“Oh, will you?” She asked, deceptively calm. “And what would you wife say if I told her what you had been up to? What you have helped me do?” Eros froze.

“Your sweet, kind, formerly human wife. Who became patron of the human soul after her ascension. How would she react?”

It would break her heart. Psyche had already suffered so much for him.

“I will not put myself in the path of Zeus’ anger again.” He said firmly.

His mother cooed. “You will not have to darling. We made the mistake of trying to strike at the son of Zeus directly. But there are other ways to get to him.”

“How?” He asked, impatient.

She smiled sweetly and held out her hand. As he watched one of his arrows materialised, the arrows he used to pierce the hearts of mortals to create love. But this was not one of his normal arrows. His regular arrows were made from silver with gold tips, only a special few were different, and this was one of those few. This one was obsidian with a led tip. Oh.

“We strike at his true heart. We strike at Achilles.”


	16. Priorities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thetis Pov

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, this is a short one but it pretty much sums up everything I need to say in this chapter.  
> Hope you guys enjoy it!

Thetis was waiting in her son’s tent as she had been once every week since he had arrived in Troy. She prepared herself to be greeted with the usual sullen silences and sour expressions that had been the norm since he agreed to come to Troy.

His preoccupation with the fate of his lover meant that Achilles had gained a reputation among the solders for being grim faced and solemn. Luckily for her son, he was beautiful and _Aristos Arhaion_ so instead of calling him moody and unlikable he was called mysterious and noble. It was not exactly the reputation she had envisioned for him, but it would still work for her purposes.

To her surprise, when he entered he was sporting a large grin and instead of frowning when he saw her, he rushed over and began to talk.

“Mother! I did not expect you today. Have you heard what happened today?” he didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Troy has waived a flag of parley! King Priam has agreed to see an embassy and I have insisted on being part of it!”

So, his good mood was because of the godchild he still had his heart set on. Thetis almost snapped at him to stop focusing on a stupid childhood crush that had gone too far and instead focus on his own legacy. But she stopped herself just barely- now was not the time. Besides, this new development had the pleasant side effect of Achilles being willing to talk to her again.

She let him chatter on about his plans for the embassy and how he would find a way to talk to his lover alone. She was only half focusing on his words, the rest of her was taking in how her son looked when he was happy. She was surprised to find that she had missed the sight.

“Mother, have you heard anymore prophecies? Anything about Patroclus?” He broke himself off mid-sentence to ask.

Thetis frowned at his sudden change in subject, it was hard to keep up with the short attention span of humans. “There is nothing, no.”

He sighed then drew himself up. “No- that is for the best. Better that we can make our own destinies.”

Thetis nodded “As you can create your own destiny of becoming a god.”

Achilles looked troubled “Mother I do not-“

She shook her head and he stopped talking instantly. Her son would realise sooner rather than later that he did not want to be among the rotting piles of flesh that was the destiny of humanity, she would do what was best to take him down the right path while he figured that out for himself.

“Enough now. Tell me about your battles and your reputation”

Achilles was eager to comply.

They stayed like that until nightfall. Talking about his reputation and prowess, with Achilles stubbornly bringing up his lover more often than Thetis liked. But by the time Achilles began to make his preparations to sleep their relationship was back to what it had been before he had become angry at her for her perceived betrayal.

Before she left the tent she leaned down to where he sat and kissed his cheeks.

“I love you, Goodnight _Hokumoros_ ”

Achilles smiled “I love you as well, mother. Goodnight”

With one last glance at him, Thetis exited the tent and took a moment to hear her sons breathing inside the tent to make sure he was a sleep.

Then she allowed herself to slip into the shadowed in-between world that gods were able to inhabit, unseen and unfelt by mortals.

She drew herself up and met the black eyes of the god who had been outside the tent ever since Achilles entered.

“You have no business with my son. Leave” A daring thing to demand. Before her was an Olympian and she was only a nymph. But she would call upon her favour from Zeus himself to protect her son and use all the tricks and wiles her kind had to learned to outmanoeuvre greater gods, if that meant protecting Achilles.

“Let me pass.” Eros replied, calm as always.

Her eyes were drawn to the single arrow in his hand. Obsidian shaft, led tip.

“An arrow to remove all love and romantic passions. You would rob my son of his ability to love? This is one of Aphrodite’s schemes to hurt one of Zeus’ mortal children is it not? My son will not be a pawn in her revenge game. His destiny is greater than that.”

Eros smiled, almost with sympathy. She hated that expression on his face, she wished she had the power to strike it off.

“Does he really have a greater destiny or is that just the meaningless wish of an embittered mother? If you do not let me pass you will regret it.”

Thetis felt the air around her go colder in response to her anger, she was sure Eros felt it too, though to a greater god it would be nothing but a small annoyance.

“Do not threaten me. Especially when my son is involved.”

“It is not a threat. It is a warning and an offer for your son to escape his fate.”

Thetis paused. She looked closely at the impassive face of the god before her but did not ask what he meant. She would not play any game he was attempting to draw her into.

Eros sighed, impatient. “Do you not understand? Your son will die.”

Thetis stiffened. “Has the oracle informed you of this?”

Eros rolled his eyes. “I do not need an oracle to tell me that a mortal will die.”

“Not if he becomes a-“

“- A god. Yes. But do you really think he will become a God as he is now? Tell me Thetis, does your son act like a god?”

She thought of her son as the happy child he had been- preoccupied with games and play. She thought of his refusal to become a god, most likely because of that demigod he was enamoured with. She thought of his weak body, his quick ageing and his refusal to do what it took to cement his legacy and become a god.

Then she thought of the gods. So superior to mortals with their beauty and long life. The childhood of gods only lasted for a month, often they did not even need to be nursed- it made them…cold in a way. A gods first love was owed to themselves only and they ensured that would always have power for themselves. Status was everything for the gods and the weak were shown no mercy. Thetis would know.

No. Her son did not act like a god.

Eros must have seen the answer on her face and he continued.

“This arrow will burn away his love but it will make him stronger. He will be the type of hero the gods love. Bold and strong, he will take what he wants and have no fealty to any mortal but still give honour to the gods. He will be committed to his legacy, he will not be distracted by petty affairs. This arrow will be a gift to your son to help him ascend without the trappings of mortality holding him down. “

Thetis was glad she did not need to breathe as in this moment she had forgotten how to do so.

Her son…a god. Her son immortal and shining and eternal. Her son would be her triumph over the gods who had organised her rape. They tried to destroy her son, make him weaker by forcing him to have a mortal father. But this would be her ultimate victory, despite the mortal shackles they put on him- despite the greatness they had robbed her of- her son would still transcend his fate and become immortal.

But…she thought again to her sons face glowing with excitement today in the tent, she thought of her son as he was as a child, picking figs for her and pointing out all his favourite shells on the beach as he walked with her, hand in hand.

Eros was growing impatient, he was waiting for her to make a decision. All at once she felt overwhelmed.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and solidified what was truly important in her mind’s eye. She opened her eyes again to hold Eros’ gaze.

She nodded once at him, slow and measured, then stepped aside.

She kept facing forward, still as a statue as Eros nodded back and walked into the tent. She kept still even when she heard an arrow piercing through soft mortal flesh, kept still as her son emitted a soft, pained grunt and kept still as her heart broke along with his.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are love <3


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